Inyssa
Bug Catcher
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hiya! I was smashing my head against my latest chapter of a longfic so I decided to do a one-shot instead about my favorite Pokemon OC. Metchi is a protagonist in my longfic Child of Thorns, but here's all you need to know about her for this one-shot:
- Alongside Barry and Inyssa (my version of Dawn) she shares MC status in a re-imagining of Pokemon Platinum, with all that entails.
- Back in CoT she was a runaway from Team Galactic who stole Azelf from them. Nowadays she's soul-bonded to it, and lives in Hoenn, working as a Ranger base leader.
That's all! Here's the story's synopsis:
Content Warnings:
Also for those who like that sorta thing, here's some art of Metchi from both time periods, when she was 26 and 32 (Younger Metchi art by strayknight on tumblr):
31/12/2005
“And what the hell do you expect me to do about this, exactly?”
The last thing Metchi wanted anyone to think about her -much less the hand that fed her- was that she was unreliable, but she couldn’t help herself this time. She felt like a Spinda being pulled over and asked to do a balance test.
Her boss Saturn’s smile didn’t falter any, though. He pointedly ignored her cursing, knowing that scolding her for it was a losing battle, and plopped down beside her on the bed, leaning forward with elbows on his knees and that sweet yet annoyingly over-familiar look on his freckled face. It was the kind of disposition that tended to settle badly in Metchi’s stomach, but she’d learned to tolerate it for Saturn because she knew he truly didn’t mean anything by it.
Besides, she figured she had to lead by example. He might’ve been her boss, but Saturn was younger than her to a point where she couldn’t see him as anything but a kid, despite what his ID might say to the contrary. And yet he clearly had his life together more than she ever did at that age.
“I didn’t come here just to discuss this, I hope you know,” he said, a sincere look of shame on his face, like he’d just realized she might think that. “I’d heard down the grapevine that you weren’t going to attend our little celebration, but-”
Metchi groaned. “Why would I? So I can stand there awkwardly until enough time passes that I can go back to my room?”
The other issue momentarily vanishing from Saturn’s face, he tilted his head in a concerned but adorable way and said: “Ursa, everyone would love for you to be there.”
This time, at least, she managed to stop herself from flinching at the name. It was alright. She understood that code names were necessary for privacy, and it was Galactic’s way of metaphorically helping one’s rebirth into their cause. It was just that… the way Saturn had smiled back then, cheerily informing her that she could take a girl constellation name, as though that fixed the fact no one would call her by the one she’d chosen again…
No, she’d gone over this plenty already. It was a stupid topic anyway.
“Right, she muttered under her breath, raising one leg to the table and hugging her knee. “That’s why none of them invited me.”
“I-” Saturn stammered, genuinely confused. “They… They wouldn’t have thought it necessary. You know that.”
An uncomfortable feeling rose from Metchi’s stomach, the rushing of blood like a rattlesnake’s tail buzzing in her head. She looked away from Saturn.
“Do I?”
Metchi knew he didn't mean it badly, knew he was just showing so much friendliness because he was awkward and didn’t wanna come off as a bad person in the eyes of someone like her, but the moment Saturn gave her that ‘Oh, aren’t you silly?’ smile and put a hand on her shoulder, she wanted to punch him. And then he opened his mouth, and that almost became a reality.
“I know it’s difficult,” he whispered. “You’re not the first to feel this way. Holidays away from home a-”
“ Don’t ,” Metchi hissed, a sound like steam spouting from a kettle. “Just… Shut up.”
Saturn pulled his hand back like he’d touched said kettle, though he was quick in trying a different approach. “...Everyone on our side of team Galactic really admires you, Ursa. You’re an inspiration to many of them, especially the younger grunts.”
A bitter buckshot laugh left her lips. “That’s not even one percent as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Ah, but you agree then.”
Metchi cursed under her breath. “No-I…”
“Auriga wouldn’t be with us today if it weren’t for your guidance,” he kept going, surely trying to pile so much on top of her that she would be unable to refute him. “You’re the only one who speaks up during meetings; if not for you then the boss wouldn’t have known to add hormone vials and needles to the supplies he gets for us every month! That alone-”
“I-Look-That’s not…!” Metchi was trying to talk over him, but it was not easy. The man was a natural-born yapper. “Auriga was just depressed, okay!? And yeah, no fucking wonder. I didn’t do anything, I was just passing by and I saw her trying to… Point is, anyone willing to give a hug and a shoulder to cry on would’ve had the same result. And I wasn’t… Just because I spoke up during one fucking meeting… That doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t as good! Because they are!”
“I didn’t mean…” Saturn sighed, giving a little shake of the head. “What about Overheat ? We have a rock band in team Galactic now, Ursa!” he exclaimed, as though it were the most incredible thing in the world. “All because of you!”
Again that torrent of rushing blood inside her, only this time it was going to her ears instead of her brain, lips pursing in embarrassment.
“It’s grunge, not rock,” she said at first, because she could think of nothing else. “And… Okay, sure. But they would’ve gotten together and formed a band anyway, that’s what gay people do when they’ve got nothing else to do. I’m… just the bassist,” she said, shrugging. “There should be plenty of us in the base. I’m just the only one masochistic enough to volunteer myself.”
She was expecting Saturn to interject as soon as she stopped talking, but somehow the silence was worse. Because she could feel his eyes on her. It was a skill she’s developed out of necessity, one she really wished she could turn off once in a while.
“...I think you’re really underestimating yourself, Ursa.”
Making a face and shrugging was her response to that.
“Everyone-”
“Shut up,” she sighed, sounding so tired that Saturn obeyed out of concern more than anything else. “We’re getting off topic anyway. You wanted me to talk to the new recruit, right? Well, it’s either that or I go to the party, and I’ve only got the energy for one. I’ll let you pick.”
It was fair, right? A fair compromise considering she already did so much for this fucking guy. And as soon as she thought that, another voice inside her head whispered: ‘Wait, weren't you just arguing the point that-?’
But she cut the rails on that train of thought pretty quickly. The last bitch she needed a scolding from was the one inhabiting her skull.
“...Ursa, I wouldn’t want you to give up your-”
“I’ll go talk to him,” she quickly decided for him. “I do some good for the team, I don’t have to go to the party and no one has to suffer me there. Everyone wins.”
“Ursa…”
But she was already jumping off her shitty bed, opening the drawer on the table beside it and fishing a cigarette and a lighter from inside. As she turned around and clicked the spark to life, Saturn’s face almost tripped her into laughing. She figured he couldn’t quite scold her for smoking inside -or for carrying contraband- considering he needed a favor from her, so he simply scrunched up his round face and pretended he didn’t see anything.
“I said I’ll do it. What’s his problem?” she said before he could complain any more. “Depressed? Angry? Hormones?”
In a gesture she’d seen countless of times from white guys like Saturn -and which never failed to make her chuckle inwardly- he raised a hand as though to say something, shook his head and let it fall down with force onto his lap, sighing.
“He’s actually closer to your age than mine,” he said. “And… a mix of all three, perhaps. He’s been shirking his duties which… fair, you know I don’t expect perfection out of new recruits. This must all be avoidant, standoff-ish. There’s been other rumors, but they come from the lips of… Well, you know how Mars’ people are. And…” Saturn pursed his lips for a moment, as though carefully trying to pick his words. “I’m not sure, but Auriga told me you might be the one for the job.”
“Right…” Metchi blew out a mouthful of smoke, feeling much more cooperative now that the nicotine was entering her system. “That could mean plenty of things, but I’ll guess I’ll find out, huh? Still, couldn’t this have waited until after the party?”
Saturn gave her an apologetic smile. “He made it pretty clear he wouldn’t attend. I was hoping you’d… change his mind?”
The cig froze halfway to her mouth, and her lips curved into a sharp, ironic smile.
“...You fucker,” she said, more appreciative than angry. “Threatening to make me a hypocrite… you already knew I’d give you that choice, huh?”
Saturn gave her a little tilt of the lip and a glance upwards, like a slap to the face for underestimating him, young and naive though he may be.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said innocently.
“Right,” she said, taking a tired, suddenly much more needed drag. “I guess I deserve that.”
In Metchi’s head, Lilycove is still that old salt-smelling city by the sea where only old rich people and their nepo families live, a mental image informed by when she’d come as a kid alongside her dad for one of his missions. Yet now…
Crazy what a couple decades and a recession can do. And becoming the new contest hub of the region. And opening branches for the two largest public universities in Hoenn. She’s rarely seen this many group of college students prowling the streets in search for somewhere to get fucked up since her last visit to Rustboro.
She casts her gaze to the side, to the woman accompanying her, hands in the pockets of her denim shorts, swaying back and forth on the ball of her feet. Not that they spend too much time together, but it’s strange to see her not carrying a thermos and a mate.
Flor turns to her with a knowing smile. “Ready to go? Or do you need a third smoke break to calm your nerves?”
Now, Metchi doesn’t take that kinda shit from just anyone, even if it’s just a joke, but unfortunately Arceus hasn’t yet come up with a type of butch that could hold her own against Flor’s smile, so she just smiles in turn and says: “Two in a day is pushing it already. If I keep slipping up like that, Azelf’s not gonna be happy with me.”
“Do you blame me?” Azelf speaks amusedly inside her head. “Our mutual bond is built upon your willpower and restraint.”
Actually, our mutual bond is built upon me being the only idiot who can stand you.
“Two things can be true at once.”
“It’s New Years though,” Flor says, then adds once her brain catches up to her mouth. “But if it’s for your health that’s totally understandable.”
And she chuckles at herself with a sound that tastes like lemon peels bubbling inside a glass of sparkling water; Metchi has no idea what that means, except that housing Azelf in her soul for so long has been giving her some strange synesthesia that only kicks up when around women she’s attracted to. Regardless, Metchi looks away with a croak that she hopes sounds like normal laughter. She’s found that it’s not advisable for her to stare at Flor’s prominent cheekbones and smile lines whenever she laughs; it’s like staring straight at the sun.
It goes like this: Flor asks her a favor, Metchi is unable to say no, things usually go wrong in some way or another. Not out of malice, of course. Her coworker truly wants nothing but the best for her, though sometimes… to a concerning degree.
This time, it started with the annual Ranger guild’s New Years party. All five base leaders got together with the other higher-ups in the organization and a few government officials to eat, drink and presumably celebrate. Though if there was any celebration to be had amidst all those people it was that Metchi somehow avoided pissing any of them off. It was close, though. The moment Flor -the south-western Ranger leader- saw her ready to pick a fight with Orozco -the north-eastern’s- she grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, enticing her with the promise of a fun New Years party and some much better booze. How could Metchi refuse?
Metchi catches one last glimpse of the woman’s smile before looking away again.
Flor is, in her humble opinion, the most attractive woman she’s ever seen, and though it’s not the first or second or even fifth time she’s had such thoughts, this time she might be onto something. She’s tall and fit but in a wiry ‘used to do gymnastics and now walks or bikes everywhere’ kind of way, with tanned olive skin and a head of curly hair the color of dulce de leche reaching down to her shoulder blades. Which, much like her collarbones and cheekbones and everything else about her, are so sharp and prominent Metchi feels them like red-hot knives on her synapses every time she looks at her. There’s something almost bird-like about the woman that drives her absolutely crazy.
Which might mean something if Metchi didn’t regard her so highly as a friend, highly enough that she’s not stupid enough to try and push for anything else.
It’s not just her boundless and painfully positive energy, nor the fact she’s practically her only ally amidst all the high-ranking members of the Ranger guild. It’s also that she’s just…
Too good for you? Asks a voice in her head, and Metchi’s halfway to opening her mouth and cursing Azelf before realizing it’s hers.
“...Right. For my health,” she finally says, clearing her throat. “So-uh… Pretty nice house your friend’s got, huh.”
Changing the subject seems to work, thankfully, and it’s not like she’s lying. This isn’t what Metchi would call a rich neighborhood, but the place across the street… Well, Metchi wouldn’t mind living there, that’s for sure. There’s the old fence, and then there’s a small lawn with a little concrete path in the middle; the garage to its left and a lifelike sculpture of what looks like a Zoroark made out of sheet metal and vehicle parts to its right. It’s almost intimidating. At least until Metchi notices the flier stuck to the door, advertising classes for art and sculpting and theater and a dozen other things.
“Right?” says Flor. “There’s more of those inside; Lely made them after she retired. Guess that artistic streak is one thing I got from her, hehe.”
Lely. Flor has mentioned her before; the woman who trained her when she was still just a green cap, and one of the guild’s earliest retirees. Not that Metchi can blame her. If she were married to someone who works at Mossdeep’s Institute of Science, she wouldn’t mind letting them be the breadwinner and having an early retirement herself.
“Liar,” Azelf whispers.
Shut the fuck up , she answers.
“And the energy for like a million hobbies,” Metchi tells Flor. “Though… you sure they’re okay with me dropping in all unannounced?”
“ Metchi . It’s not like my friends don’t know you.”
A bit of heat starts rising up Metchi’s neck to her cheeks. “Y-yeah, that’s kinda the problem,” she whispers. “I don’t want to, like…”
But that’s enough talking, it seems, because both of Flor’s hands come down on her shoulders, and the dark grey of her eyes clash against her, short-circuiting Metchi’s brain.
“Girl… It’s gonna be fine,” she says, so sweetly Metchi believes her kind of instantly. “I promise you, none of my friends give a shit that you’ve got a god-critter living inside your brain. Um-no offense-”
“None taken ,” Azelf speaks, this time outwardly, its weightless voice hanging in the air. “I care not for them either.”
“Good to know. Anyway, they just care that you’ve been making all of their jobs and so many kids’ lives much easier these past few months. They care that you’re cool. And that I say you’re cool,” she adds with a wink like a knife stabbing into Metchi’s adrenaline center. “So… try to enjoy yourself, yeah?”
“Y… yeah,” Metchi manages to get out, breathless. “Got it, cap’n.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says, turning around and grabbing Metchi by the wrist instead, which isn’t much better. “Come on.”
Worst part is, she’s right. They’re greeted inside the garage -which, lacking a car, has been turned into an art classroom- by a queer couple a decade older than them, yet who don’t seem to have any less energy than Metchi during her best days. She doesn’t know whether to find it hopeful or discouraging.
Flor truly is the spitting image of Lely, despite not being related and the former lacking a bit of the cheerful grimness that rests on the older woman’s shoulders like an intentional fashion statement. She gives Metchi a thigh hug and says she’s happy to finally meet her, before turning around so she can catch up with her student. Her partner is maybe less enthused but just as polite, offering Metchi a firm handshake and a smile that exacerbates the crow’s feet around their eyes like the pale veins running through brown apatite. They are, perhaps, the tallest person Metchi has ever met.
“Atticus,” they say with a voice like someone humming underwater. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Metchi.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” she says. “Atticus… That’s a really nice name.”
She’s not lying. And maybe it shows, because Atticus replies with a chuckle that’s very pleasant to hear.
“Thank you. It’s the only thing my mother left me.”
She can’t help but blink a couple times fast, but it’s not enough to throw her off. “Wish I could relate, but all mine left me was a dead bird. Ain’t life a bitch.”
“Ain’t it indeed,” Atticus nods, pulling their hand back. “Flor’s told me a lot about the work you do, but if you don’t mind there’s something else I wanted to ask you about. You’re free to refuse to answer, though.” They wait, and when Metchi just gulps and nods… “I’ve heard you came face to face with Father Revenant. Is that true?”
What a way to open a conversation , Metchi thinks before her head goes mostly blank. It’s not that she doesn’t know what they mean. Despite having never heard the term before, Metchi feels a zap of recognition coming from Azelf, and suddenly she knows. It’s hard to ignore the worry settling like an ulcer in her stomach.
“I… yeah,” she says, sounding less confident than she’d like. “It was… one hell of a weekend, ha.”
“Mhm. I’m sure,” Atticus mutters to themselves. “I’ve only met one of his daughters before, and she nearly killed me, deservedly so. Thankfully in the end she settled for destroying my car and forcing me to figure out my gender which is, I’m sure you’ll agree, a much better deal.”
Being now a public figure, Metchi would like to think she’s got some experience in navigating awkward conversations, but this just floors her. Staring and blinking is all she can do until Lely comes to the rescue.
“Atticus, that’s enough,” she says with a sigh, tuning into the conversation. “Give the poor girl some peace. We’re here to celebrate, not dig up the past.”
Rolling their eyes a little, Atticus gives their wife a knowing look as though she’s no one to talk, but eventually concedes and turns their attention toward Flor instead, giving her a big hug. Metchi doesn’t know what to say. There’s a weird energy about Atticus, a calmness and peace she’s not sure she understands, yet doesn’t dislike either.
“Let’s not keep you two here,” Lely says eventually, giving Metchi a little pat on the shoulder. “Food’s on its way, but we’ve got drinks and friends aplenty.”
“Is everyone here already?” asks Flor.
“Almost. Our grillmaster’s been here for a couple hours already. Both of my older students and most of the Horneros are here, save for Lilith who’s running a bit late.”
That last part catches Metchi’s attention. Horneros is the name of a non-profit she and Flor have been collaborating with ever since they became Ranger leaders, one which does its best to provide shelter and resources to young queer kids in need. Metchi provides as much employment as her base can reasonably -and often unreasonably, in the eyes of the government- afford, and Flor provides access to various clubs, activities and bureaucratic resources thanks to her seemingly endless pool of friends and acquaintances, Lely included.
Metchi has been in contact with a few of the older members in order to provide said help, but knowing she’s about to meet them in person makes her shoulders and her stomach tense up with nervousness. Especially…
“Aw, I really hope she makes it,” Flor sighs, then turns toward her. “Lilith’s been talking about how much she wanted to meet you.”
That, yeah. Lilith is practically the co-founder, and the person from Horneros Metchi has been in contact with the most. For business reasons, of course. Shame that even with that veneer, even through the safety blanket of online anonymity, it’s impossible to ignore that the woman is extremely cool.
And Metchi might meet her tonight.
“Mhm,” she mutters, her only response to what Flor said. “I’ll-uh, take you up on that offer for a drink. Hope you’ve got beer.”
They do, thankfully. And not just any beer but a few barrels of liso , a southern Hoennese variant that’s milder and softer than other ales, the type of beer you drink more to beat the heat than to get drunk, and the kind Metchi’s dad always used to down a couple glasses of after a hard day’s work. A habit she inherited from him.
Loud music and loud conversation fills the air as Metchi serves herself a glass and starts introducing herself to people, the scent of the curling smoke rising from the brick grill making her mouth water. There’s two reasons Metchi knows this asado will be one to remember. First is that the man tending the grill is fat and shirtless, grill shovel in one hand and a tall glass of fernet in the other, dancing and humming along to the music with a smile that could part storm clouds; the platonic ideal of a grillmaster. The second is that there’s no food that doesn’t go well with this kind of company.
The backyard is pretty spacious and covered all over with metallic Pokemon sculptures of all sizes, a few of which had to be moved to make room for the dining table. They make for good conversation pieces. Once she’s done hiding behind Flor and confident enough to break the ice with people on her own -all of whom are really happy to see her, embarrassingly enough- she uses the large Scyther sculpture near the entrance specifically because it’s cool and everyone has something to say about it.
A tall, lanky girl with more piercings than Metchi can count (Marianne, Metchi jots down in her brain) starts telling her about her team back when she was a trainer, and how the Scyther she rescued from a shelter gave her a false sense of security. How being able to steamroll the first three gyms ill-prepared her for the spike in difficulty. Metchi knows very little about training, but she nods and interjects when appropriate. A different girl with a mohawk and an old, graying Larvesta following her around (Primrose, what a beautiful name) interjects about bugs, and bug-catching, and pretty much everything regarding insects and their place in every aspect of the world with the excited tone of voice of someone who’s been obsessed since she was a kid.
Then the grillmaster (Angel, the third of his namesake Metchi has met so far) who it turns out is related to Mauville’s Gym leader Wattson, approaches with an anecdote about the time before the city’s renovation when the guys in charge of New Mauville’s power plant were considering harvesting Illumise and Volbeat for their bio-luminescent pheromones, as a cheaper alternative to chargestones for underground lighting. Which, in turn, sends Primrose into an indignant rant that lasts them nearly until dinner is ready.
Metchi’s almost forgotten about their missing member until they’re called to sit down, now that the asado’s ready. But then the doorbell goes off. And as she’s about to take her seat next to Flor, Metchi hears Lely and another person’s voices getting louder from inside the house.
“...was starting to get worried, but thank god…”
“...it was nasty, but what can you do,” a new person’s voice echoes, tired and deep. “We were about to leave when who else but one of the guys that worked there made a snide little fucking comment about whether Lottie’d gone into the wrong bathroom.”
“Really? Fuck,” Lely says, with the intonation of someone who rarely used that particular curse. “Is she-?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fer’s at her place with her, she’s fine. We almost got into a fight; ended up taking it up to the bar’s owner but I don’t think he really gave a shit, despite what he said.” A sigh, then a dry laugh. “So much for it being a safe space, hm?”
Then, out the door leading to the backyard, steps out a woman who Metchi instantly knows is Lilith, despite never having seen a picture of her. She’s stout and wide-shouldered, though not particularly tall. Her hair is so thick and messy it looks as though it’s exploding off the back of her head, barely tamed into a long charcoal-colored ponytail. She’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a wine-colored tank top, over which is draped possibly the most beautiful leather vest Metchi’s ever seen, a dark purple the color of poison with a sharp white fur collar. She doesn’t need to see the back to know there’s an Arbok’s false face on it.
Lilith stops, meets them all with a tired look and a lopsided smile, and says:
“Hey. Is there a chair for the dumbass who got us all banned from the Venoshock ?” There’s laughter and curses and fake indignant tones, and then Lilith’s eyes fall on Metchi and she all but feels her heart jump to her throat, because said eyes go wide with recognition and… excitement? “Metchi! I’m glad Flor managed to convince you to come. It’s so nice to see you.”
“I-Um-Yeah. Nice to-you too,” is what Metchi replies, because she is truly the biggest dumbass the land of Hoenn has ever produced.
It wasn’t hard to find the grunt Saturn told Metchi about. Galactic HQ had a number of facilities intended for rest and recreation, probably at the behest of someone who understood that teenagers needed something to occupy their time with if they were going to be stuck in a building for a long time.
One of those places was the cafeteria, a long, mostly featureless room full of long tables and benches where grunts would sit together -often exclusively with those from their same division- and have lunch or dinner of tea time if they so wished. It wasn’t Metchi’s preferred dining spot. She liked eating in silence, and didn’t think many of her peers were dying for her presence anyway. But if she didn’t feel like dragging the food tray back to her room, she’d probably just…
Yep, right there, sitting at an otherwise empty table behind one of the pillars holding up the room, spoon buried in some risotto. Hidden and kind of stuck in between the area for Mars and Saturn’s people, both of whom were talking loudly as they ate, only occasionally flinging insults and taunts at the other group.
Ignoring them both, Metchi filled a bowl with chips from the counter and plopped herself down on the bench opposite to his, startling him into choking on his water.
“Hmph!”
“Hey,” said Metchi, grabbing a chip and biting into it. “Mind if I sit here?”
Hard to believe he was near her age with a baby face like that, honestly. The grunt was short and wiry, too skinny -but then again Metchi thought that of most teenagers- and with a black wool hat covering most of his bleached blonde hair. She grimaced at how dry his locks were, resting on his shoulders. If she couldn’t help him with what Saturn asked her about, she could at least give him some tips about how to better take care of dyed hair later.
“O-oh! No, it’s fine!” he said, voice going higher-pitched for a second. “It’s fine, hi.”
Antsy, huh. Metchi looked at him and smiled, resting her elbows on the table and grabbing another chip as though the two of them were already good friends.
“Name’s Metchi,” she said. “... And you should take a picture, it’ll last you longer.”
The grunt’s eyes didn’t leave her until then, when he cursed under his breath and looked away, apologizing. Metchi almost felt bad. But more often than not you had to let people know they were being rude and staring, regardless of the reason.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Haven’t seen you around before. What do I call you?”
Poor guy still looked like a Magikarp out of water, and Metchi would’ve felt bad for bothering him like this if she weren’t well aware that sometimes an annoying bitch like her was just what you needed to pull you out of a bad brain time.
“...My team name’s Cassiopeia.”
She barely stopped herself from raising an eyebrow. There was something in his voice, a twinge of an emotion that didn’t sound negative but didn’t sound pleasant either, when he told her his Galactic-given name.
“That’s a good one. Mine’s shit, so I just go by Metchi,” she shrugged. “Can I call you Cass?”
Cassiopeia’s face hardened instantly, as though someone had punched him in the gut. Metchi blinked. Then she mentally slapped herself because of course .
“...Cassiopeia it is,” she said.
“You can call me Cass if you want,” Cassiopeia hurried to add with a taut, forced smile. “Cassiopeia’s… I mean, a little girly.”
Those last words came out a little choked, so Metchi just smiled and said: “I think it fits you.”
“...Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Metchi nodded, taking another bite out of a chip. “From one dipshit eating alone to the other, it’s very nice to meet you, Cassiopeia.”
Unbeknownst to Metchi, it was precisely because this wasn’t out of left field for her that it ended up working. There were many rumors about her. Some good, some bad, but regardless of what other grunts thought about her, all of them knew her as the weird trans girl who spent most of her time alone, either snacking and staring at the ceiling or practicing with her bass… except when she saw someone younger than her in need. Then it was like a switch was flipped inside her. Many in Team Galactic had suffered her in this state; a rough hand grabbing them by the collar and beating them with an annoyed kindness until they at least had something better to occupy their time with than feeling sorry for themselves.
At the time, Metchi remained wholly unaware of this. In her mind she acted with perfect, crystal-clear consistency at all times.
So she and Cassiopeia got to talking over their shitty meals, and Metchi was surprised to find the grunt was much more friendly than she’d expected. Very talkative, sure, but that beat the alternative. They chatted about the usual stuff; the weather, the shitty spot the boss had chosen as their HQ, the whole trainer debacle outside their walls and the few T.V. shows the base’s limited cable could get to them.
And she found herself enjoying her chat a lot, regardless of responsibility. Cassiopeia was funny and cheerful, though in a ‘hyperactive and so-far undiagnosed with ADHD’ kind of way, caring more about talking than eating their food, which Metchi had to remind them of in more than one occasion, and one time even went to reheat it because it’d gone cold.
In the end, she almost forgot to bring up the topic of the party by the time Cassiopeia was finishing their plate.
“...Anyway, guess I better take another bag of chips with me, it’ll be hard to get food to my room later tonight.”
Cassiopeia looked up at her, a hint of almost recognition in those amber eyes.
“You’re not going to the party either?”
Cheek resting on her palm, Metchi smiled and shrugged. “Guess we’re fellow loners, hm? I dunno. I wasn’t feeling it before…” She left a little pause, then said. “How about you?”
Cassiopeia’s shoulders slumped. “...Yeah, I don’t know. I mean…”
Metchi caught the way Cassiopeia looked to the side, toward the table where most of Mars’ people were, face darkening all of a sudden.
“...It’ll just be awkward.”
“Oh, yeah?” Metchi asked, trying to sound casual. “How so?”
“Because my boyf… My ex is going to be there.”
Now, Metchi wasn’t actually expecting an answer that fast. She’d prepared herself for some more friendly wrangling, expecting a bit more effort to get it out of Cassiopeia, but it dawned on her that maybe not everyone had encased themselves in a fortress of their own creation inside their minds. Crazy that.
“...Ah.”
Regardless, Cassiopeia was definitely the oversharing type. Which soon informed the problem, as Metchi came to learn pretty much everything that had happened since their induction into team Galactic, and how much of it had been boyfriend troubles.
It was a sordid story Metchi had seen play many times before. A horribly lonely, conventionally attractive queer teen seeking validation and love in the arms of dipshits who only wanted them for their bodies. Of course Cassiopeia didn’t say any of that, but Metchi could read between the lines. The initial promises, the lovey-doviness, then the clinginess when the guy stopped caring about Cassiopeia, followed by rebound after rebound until their friends stopped trying to warn them about how shitty the guy was and left, figuring Cassiopeia was a lost cause anyway.
And from what Cassiopeia told her, it wasn’t the first time even within Team Galactic. Metchi would like to think she kept her temper under control during most of their talk, her anger boiling at a low, controllable simmer, but when Cassiopeia finally pointed out who her most recent ex was, she couldn’t stop the scoff from leaving her lips.
“Yeah… of fucking course it’s one of Mars’,” she said, glancing at the dipshit from afar for just a second before looking away. “And you think he’s worth ruining your New Years?”
Redness rose to Cassiopeia’s cheeks. Shame, anger.
“He… started making rumors about me. Says I’m clingy and creepy, that I was stalking him, but I just-”
“You just wanted him to stop avoiding you.”
“...”
Cassiopeia said nothing, and though Metchi should’ve probably slowed her roll at this point, the heat was starting to spread from her stomach outwards, coating her in a nice, self-sufficient mantle of anger.
“So if he weren’t at the party, or if he just left you alone, you’d go?” Metchi asked. “I didn’t feel like going before either, but I wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”
“R-really?” Cassiopeia asked, then immediately shook their head. “No, that’s… It’s fine, really. Maybe… I mean, I’ve been kind of clingy, he’s right about-”
Metchi stood up, startling Cassiopeia. She couldn’t help it; that restless energy was getting hard to control, and at this point she’d already made her choice. She shone Cassiopeia a tight smile, her best effort.
“Nope. Sorry, but I’m not letting you do that to yourself,” she said, danger clear in her voice. “Here, want to know what I think about your dipshit of an ex? Want to know what I’d do in your place?”
“Huh? Metch-h-hey! Metchi!?”
But she was already walking away, heading toward the table where Mars’ grunts were. “Watch from afar,” was all she said. “Wouldn’t want them to see you.”
Conversation immediately died on the side of the table she stopped at, all eyes turning toward her as she smiled and leaned down, slamming one hand next to the tray of the dipshit Cassiopeia had told her about. His eyes and posture were already aggressive before she did that, though. He was exactly the type she pictured when she heard the story; a pale, wiry pretty boy with long hair and a piercing, wearing a metal band T-shirt under his Galactic uniform. Plenty of young queer kids had fallen prey to such dipshits.
“Hey,” she said. “Gin, right?”
Every pair of eyes on her was fulminating. Though she wouldn’t have described any part of Galactic as hostile toward queer kids, Mars’ group was, statistically, the most likely one to contain such dipshits, considering most of them were older and… less morally-sound, to put it respectfully.
Funny thing about anger, though. As long as she wore it like a suit of armor around her, Metchi could get through as many nasty stares as she needed to.
“Yeah?” Gin frowned, seemingly too flabbergasted at her gall to react angrily yet. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just wanted to confirm, and give you a heads up. I really don’t like sucker-punching. Feels dishonorable, you know?”
“Wh-?”
Then, as casually as one could, Metchi emptied the guy’s tray atop the table, spun it in her hand and slapped it across his face with every ounce of strength she could muster.
There’s the food and the drinks first, of course. Metchi limits herself with the latter, even if the former is a lost cause considering how fucking good the meat is. She’s not twenty anymore, however. Hard though it may be to accept, she simply can’t hold her liquor as well as she did a decade ago, especially while trying to get a girl like Lilith to like her. Metchi was a somber, weepy drunk. It just didn’t fit the occasion.
Yet things are far from over even as the plates have been emptied for a while. It’s rare for people in Hoenn to leave a gathering so soon after finishing their meal. Post-dinner coffee, sweets and chatting can last for hours, though in this case the former is just replaced with alcohol.
Thankfully, Flor stays by Metchi’s side as Lilith, arresting as a flashlight pointed to her face, takes a keen interest in her and seems no less enthused in chatting even after the full dinner and two spirited games of Carioca go by.
It’s an hour to midnight by the time a handful of the attenders go inside for coffee and a smoke break, and the three of them stand outside near the tree with the Joltik sculpture, drinks in hand to grease the wheels of conversation that keep on spinning. Metchi hasn’t looked at the time in a while. She completely loses herself, smiling and nodding along and exchanging stories and anecdotes with Lilith as though they’re good friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.
Lilith tells them about how she came to be a part of Horneros , and though it’s a story Metchi’s seen mirrored in plenty of the people she knows, it’s one she doesn’t get tired of hearing. Having recently moved to Hoenn all in her lonesome, Lilith caught wind of a meeting being organized by the group in a public park near where she lived, and having nothing better to do ended up attending without realizing that it was an event intended for younger queer kids to get to know each other. So in the end she found herself sitting in a big circle on the grass, listening to awkward teenage introductions and almost being bitten by one of the kids’ overprotective Trapinch.
“As soon as I heard the words ‘scavenger hunt’ I was like… no, yeah, fuck this. But I felt it’d be a dick move to just up and leave,” she confesses. “So I asked the organizer if there was anything else I could do to help. And that afternoon I spent organizing activities and serving fizzy drinks and offering those kids a shoulder to cry on… is what ended up sealing my fate.”
Both Metchi and Flor nod, empathetic looks on their faces. It’s a tale as old as time. You can have all the personality and good-will in the world, but it’s the people who are willing to do the boring work, those who speak up and offer ideas and plans of action that are truly vital to groups like theirs. It surprises them zero percent that Lilith would become so important to the Horneros in just a few years, without really meaning to.
It’s not much different than how either of them ended up where they are now, really.
“You know,” says Lilith after a short lull, raising her glass of Fernet with a quirk of the lips. “I’ve been talking about myself so much and I just realized I haven’t congratulated you two on your promotions yet. Can I make it up to you with a toast?”
Both Ranger leaders laugh and say it’s not a big deal, though Metchi stammers much more on that front. In the end however, all three glasses meet in between them with a clink.
“Aww, thank you, hon. I don’t know if I deserve it that much, though,” says Flor after her sip. “I don’t know if I told you, but it was kind of a toss-up.”
“Oh?” asks Lilith with a tilt of the head that moves a lock of hair over her face. “How so?”
“Well, it was either going to be me or my friend May… and she declined before they could even think about it. Said she was too inexperienced and she liked field work too much anyway. So y’know…”
Metchi makes a face at that. “Flor, you know they would’ve chosen you anyway, right? No offense to May, she’s a good kid, but she’s absolutely right. I mean… you were her teacher for a while even, right? It would’ve made no sense to pick her over you.”
“Haha, I mean, yeah. She still climbed the ranks a lot faster than me, though.” Flor presses her cold glass against the inside of her arm, thoughtful. “Youngest A-rank in the base’s history… that’ll turn some heads.”
“So? Rank’s just an indication of how much successful field work you do,” Metchi argues with the tone of someone who’s had this conversation plenty of times before. “Of course an ex Champion-level trainer would get to A in no time. But can she do paperwork? Could she survive a minute in a room full of government officials? No, of course not. Show me one Ranger who’s made it to A-rank that fast without the help of so many powerful Pokemon and maybe I’ll be as impressed with them as I am with you, Flor.”
It’s a bad habit of Metchi’s that her eyes kind of glaze over and her tongue loosens with a mix of alcohol and indignation, and so by the time she stops talking she finds herself face to face with a wide-eyed, blushing Flor, and freezes. It’s like she’s walked out into a blizzard fully naked.
“...You’re really sweet, you know that?” she says after a pause, the honesty in her voice making the hairs on the back of Metchi’s neck stand on end. “Isn’t she, Lilith?”
“I had her pegged as a charmer in my head, so it’s no surprise to me,” Lilith says. “Makes me just a bit jealous.”
It’s only Flor’s mercy then that saves Metchi from making a fool of herself trying to say anything to that brutal two-pronged assault, letting out just a short laugh before displacing a lock of hair behind her ear and saying:
“Ah, hell. I think I had too much to drink… I need to go to the bathroom.” She glances from one to the other. “Be back in a little bit. Look after Metchi for me, okay? Don’t let anyone steal her.”
“They’ll have to step over my corpse to get to her, ma’am,” says Lilith with complete nonchalance and seriousness.
Though maybe it’s not so much mercy as something else. As Metchi cranes her head to glance behind her, panic clear in her eyes, she and Flor’s eyes meet, and she can hear the exchange in her head as though spoken aloud.
What the fuck are you doing?
Taking off your training wheels, hon. Good luck.
“Look at that, Metchi: We scared a femme together. How deplorable” Lilith says, the sound of her name in her lips electrifying her. “I think that’s our cue to stop talking so much about work. What d’you say?”
“Huh? Y-yeah, probably.”
The smile that comes to Lilith’s lips then is sweet, if just a bit teasing. It strikes Metchi the same way a lightning bolt would a Gyarados.
“Join me by the porch?” she offers with a tilt of the head. “Maybe you can tell me a little about yourself.”
You dance with the one that brought you is a creed Metchi has always lived by. But when the one that brought you did so explicitly to hand you over to someone else like you’re a special blend of tea they’ve been waiting to try for a long time…
Metchi would love to be offended. But uh-she can’t, she really, really can’t right now.
“Sure. Only if you do the same, though.”
Lilith gives Metchi an odd look, holding the silence for a moment too long before replying. “Feels like I already gave you plenty, but I guess we’ll see.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” Metchi finally says during a short lull in the conversation. “Where the hell did you get an actual Arbok vest?”
Sitting alongside her on the house’s porch, the muffled music thumping behind them, Lilith licks her lips after a sip of her drink, her smile catching a piece of moonlight and reflecting it back to her.
“Asking for the lore on a girl’s leather vest on the first date? You’re a bold one.”
They’ve been talking for long enough now that Metchi meets that blow without staggering for once. “ And a matching set of boots. Those couldn’t have been cheap.”
It’s been on Metchi’s mind all night, not just because the vest is really cool but also because this close to Lilith, their knees almost touching, Metchi’s nose catches the leather’s natural scent and it has citric notes, both sharp and subtle at the same time. It’s her two favorite smells rolled into a beautiful piece of clothing, resting over Lilith’s shoulders.
It’s just not fair, is what Metchi’s getting at.
“...Would you believe me if I said I got it straight from the source?”
Metchi raises an eyebrow. “I’d have to hear the whole story first.”
“It’s actually much less interesting than you’d imagine, but since it’s you asking…” Lilith lets the sentence hang for a moment, then adds. “Not much to say. I was stupid enough to set up camp near where the Arbok’s den was, and it was mating season. The one that attacked me must’ve lost against another male, because he looked pretty roughed up… I was lucky. If he’d been in better shape, and if it weren’t for Flamberge-”
“Flamberge?”
“Oh, right. Flamberge’s my partner,” she says with a proud flash of her teeth. “He’s the grouchiest and most protective Dodrio you’ll ever meet. And he used to be such a sweetheart…” She sighs. “I wasn’t planning on evolving him, it just sorta happened, though I can’t complain since it ended up saving my life. The species doesn’t get a lot of love, which I don’t get. Sure, they can’t fly, but they’re as fast as any fully-evolved bird and have three times the heads to peck you with. And not to mention the talons. I’ve seen one of Flamberge’s kicks bend steel. So yeah… you can imagine how things went for that poor Arbok.”
“...Damn,” is all Metchi can say. “You get your girl stolen, someone breaks into your house and then their bird pecks you to death. Rough day.”
“Mhm… Flamberge gets pretty nasty when he thinks I’m in danger. I doubt he actually wanted to kill him… But hey, if I’m gonna go out like that I’d at least want them to make something cool out of my corpse,” Lilith argues. “And it wasn’t cheap, even having all the materials! The tannery fees were already painful enough; actually getting the vest done cost an arm and a leg. Though it was worth it, in the end.”
Hard not to agree with the proof in sight. Though there’s something about it that catches Metchi’s attention.
“...Wait. What were you doing camping near an Arbok’s den in the first place? They’re pretty hard to miss,” she says. “They eat a lot of smaller rodent Pokemon and they’re not particularly tidy; you should’ve seen some bones or corpses if you were that close.”
Something like a guilty smile comes to the woman’s lips, and she takes her time with her next sip before answering.
“It was the dead of night when I stopped to camp, and we were both really tired. Must’ve missed it,” she shrugs.
“Still-”
“I could lie to you and tell you it’s for a job… Actually, not much of a lie there. The Horneros is a non-profit, I have to earn a living some other way,” she muses. “But I do it more for fun than anything else.”
“...Do what?” asks Metchi, unconsciously leaning closer, curious.
“It’s kind of stupid, ha. Just a weird fantasy from when I was younger,” Lilith explains. “I’ve always liked the idea of just leaving through the interstate and losing myself in the countryside. My dad… we traveled a lot when I was younger. I always loved looking out the window and imagining what was out there in the forests or plains or abandoned buildings and winding dirt paths off the side of the highway.
“So, y’know. Once I was older, when I came to Hoenn to live and didn’t have to worry much about money…”
She tilts her head down and shrugs in what seems like a self-deprecating way, yet Metchi can’t look away.
“I was riding a bike in my fantasy, but I guess a Dodrio’s good enough. Faster, too, and he loves the outdoors just as much,” she continues. “So yeah, I take a couple months off from my Horneros duties every once in a while and go out there and camp wherever I can. I take my camera with me too. You know, to pretend I’m actually working; some of my pics even get submitted to magazines once in a blue moon. But in truth… it’s just for me.” A pause. A bitter smile. “I guess you could call it the trainer journey I never got to go on. Only with no Gyms or dreams of glory.”
Only the clink of the ice cubes inside Lilith’s glass can be heard once she’s done talking. Metchi doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. There’s something itching in the back of her brain, something about how easily Lilith talks about herself, yet it doesn’t feel like… oversharing. It’s something else.
“Flor would scold me if she heard me talking about this again,” Metchi eventually says. “But I feel like that’s what trainer journeys should be like anyway. Um-what a hobby, though. I’m jealous.”
“ Liar ,” Azelf snickers inside her head.
Can you like, fuck all the way off?
“So,” says Metchi, blinking to hide the brief golden gleam of her eyes. “What’s… the most interesting thing that’s happened during your trips so far? Besides your Dodrio going all Sephiroth on that poor snake, I mean.”
That earns her a laugh like a splash of water on her face. It also earns them a few more minutes of talking, of Lilith’s anecdotes which sound almost too far-fetched to be real, yet Metchi couldn't care less if they’re not.
But there’s something else, too. A sudden awkwardness. Lilith keeps glancing at her every once in a while, as though expecting something, willing it to happen, but it can’t be… No, they’re still talking. Even if she is interested in Metchi, it’s not… It’s something else, she’s sure.
And it’s not until she stumbles onto the right question that she finally realizes what.
“...You said something before,” she mutters to herself, brow furrowing. “That you didn’t need to worry much about money when you came to Hoenn.”
Surprise. Metchi knows the look of someone who’s been asked something they don’t want to answer, and the one on Lilith’s face is definitely not that. Her lips purse, but it looks more eager than avoidant.
“...Is it okay if I ask why?”
The smile Lilith gives her is definitely forced. It’s impossible to know what’s going on in her mind from her expression alone. “Why not? I already know I can trust you with my secrets.”
Metchi’s about to ask what she means by that, but Lilith cuts her off.
“I’m sure it’s a story you’re familiar with, but I didn’t keep the… best of companies when I was younger.” There’s effort in getting every word out, yet she looks more relieved the more she talks. Her eyes never leave Metchi’s. “The housing, the food, the chance to get back at those I was angry at… fuck, I didn’t even mind the uniform that much. But y’know… shit happens. You grow up, open your eyes…”
“Wait…”
It’s as if she’s walking through a dense fog, stepping over a freshly frozen lake. Cracks spreading beneath her feet. The moment when she first hears it, but mistakes it for the sound of a snapped twig instead.
“I was luckier than most,” Lilith says. “When things went to shit and everyone evacuated the base, I was at the right place and time to… take some stuff with me from the labs. Valuable stuff. Nothing dangerous, don’t worry. Blueprints, little doodads, a bit of precious metals… I have to guess the boss didn’t think it’d be worth anything, after he got what he wanted. It’s what paid the ticket back to Hoenn. It’s what’s been paying my rent for the past few years.”
Metchi opens her mouth, closes it, and when she opens it again her voice doesn’t sound like hers.
“Team Aq-? No, wait. That doesn't make…”
There’s a rumble inside her head, loud enough to even wake Azelf from its slumber, and it’s not just the cracks spreading anymore. Metchi feels a drop in her stomach. And, as though she knows exactly what’s going on inside her head, Lilith smiles in a sheepish way that’s nothing like her, and says guiltily:
“I… didn’t mean to be an ass. I didn’t even know if you’d remember and… I told myself it’d be a dick move to just come out and say it.” A sigh. She looks away. “So I’ve been stuck between figuring it’s better to just ignore it and trying to make you realize it all night. Sorry.”
She doesn’t catch the last part there, because the blood’s rushing to her ears again, rumbling, a static that deafens her to her quickening heartbeat. Her breathing grows heavier with the realization. The few neurons still working in her brain tell her she should’ve realized sooner, that it’s obvious in retrospect, that…
“Wh…”
But Metchi can’t concentrate on those thoughts, as the pleasant scent of the sea and Lilith’s jacket are replaced with copper and dampness and blood-stained earth clogging her senses and making her deathly nauseous.
“And I mean, it’s been years s-”
“Oh.”
“Hm?”
It’s clear she’s been lost in getting every word out, because when Lilith finally looks back at her and sees the paleness, the beads of sweat, the wide, gormless stare… her smile cracks like broken glass and she reaches a hand toward her.
Metchi’s on her feet before those fingers can touch her. Azelf stirs again, no longer curious but worried.
“Metchi?” Azelf asks tentatively.
“Metchi?” Lilith follows. “Are you okay?”
No , she tells Azelf, blunt like a hammer.
“Yeah,” she says out loud.
“Metchi, what’s happening? Is-AGH!?”
Over the years, Metchi has learned how to forcefully block Azelf from her mind, yet it’s obviously not a failsafe she thinks it’s okay to use, like placing a hand over a friend’s mouth to stop them from talking. But she does it almost unconsciously now, and Azelf’s voice is just gone. She immediately regrets the horrible, choking silence.
“...I’m sorry,” Lilith whispers. When did her voice become so small? She stands up slowly, worry and guilt equal on her face. “I guess I should’ve-H-hey? Metchi?”
Part of her wishes she could make her exit in a slightly more dignified manner. Say something. Explain herself, anything. But as she turns around and starts walking away, one hand over her mouth and the phantom scent of blood cloying her throat, she’s not sure she could manage any of that without throwing up on the spot.
There’s plenty of things Metchi has relapsed on during the past five years, each as mortifying as the other, each like seeing the boulder roll downhill and knowing there’s nothing to do but go all the way back down and start pushing again.
This one, though? It really fucking stings, once she’s far away enough that she can fish the third cigarette from her pocket.
Let the word be on record; Metchi would have gladly gotten her ass beat by Gin’s whole posse if that’s what it took to get one good hit on him. Thankfully, the rules in Galactic HQ were simple. Only those who started a fight got to finish it, even if one had started it more than the other.
“A-ah! What the fuck is your problem!?”
Every single grunt in the cafeteria -and some called by their friends- formed a circle around Metchi and Gin as they limped in circles around each other, a good set of bruises already starting to bloom on the skin of their cheeks and arms and knuckles. There were cheers from all sides, some encouraging Metchi, others just clamoring for more entertainment, but she tuned them all out. Taking a step back, she shook her right hand as though there was a bug on it, trying to dissipate the pain and numbness of having punched wrong last time.
If dad could see me now, he’d be disappointed for sure , she thought bitterly. More than he already must be, I mean.
“What’s my problem?” Metchi asked casually, trying to keep her eyes from stinging with the pain in her lower jaw. “Nothing, I just figured some of you Mars fuckers needed to be taught a lesson. Oh don’t act stupid,” she said when Gin’s eyes started to widen. “We warned you before that if you kept bothering the younger Saturn kids then you’d pay with teeth .”
“What-Saturn!? What!? I haven’t-”
Gin looked genuinely flabbergasted, spitting out a lock of hair off his face with as much indignation as confusion. Unfortunately, that reaction left him wide open.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your dentist, dipshit.”
And she dashed forward; one quick hop followed by two fast steps, leaving her in range. Gin startled, tried to step back but Metchi’s left hand pounced like an Ekans, fingers closing like fangs on his shoulder as she leaned her other arm back, aiming straight for his-
“That is enough.”
“ AGH !”
Pain. What feels like sharp metal claws closed around the back of Metchi’s head, a palm heel kissing her nape, and it was like all strength was suddenly gone from her. Her breath hitched. She let go of Gin, swaying back and forth and-
“L-let fucking go!”
Turning with pure fear and desperation, Metchi threw the hand off of her and slapped it away for good measure, eyes wide like those of prey looking for an escape. And the ones that met her were indeed those of a predator.
The entire cafeteria fell silent. Metchi, feeling the heat of her anger doused as though with a bucket of water, stared fearfully at none other than Mars, one of team Galactic’s commanders. The woman stood casually, looking at the hand that was slapped away with interest. She flexed her long, thin fingers, and smiled.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Ursa,” she said with a kindness like a drop of cyanide in a cup of tea. “But I think that’s enough punishment for… whatever my grunt has done to displease you.”
“I didn’t do anyth-!”
Mars looked at Gin, lips pursed into the exact opposite of a smile, and the man immediately fell silent. It felt as though everyone in the base was holding their breath.
“I said that’s enough. Everyone, please disperse; the main show will be tonight, not here in the cafeteria.”
There was zero dawdling. Metchi stared half in amazement and half in fear as every single grunt around them dispersed, most of them abandoning the cafeteria all together, even if they hadn’t finished their meal. Only her last slivers of defiance kept Metchi in place, like a stone thrown into a spider-web hanging by a thread for the briefest moment. She saw Gin slowly walk away, glaring at her.
“...See you tonight at the party,” she said with a forced smile, remembering what she’d done all this for.
Finally, when only she and Mars were left in the small clearing in between empty tables, Metchi dared to take another breath.
“I… understand some of my grunts have been causing you and your friends trouble,” Mars said. “I thought it was nothing more than a friendly team rivalry, but if you lot think they’ve gone far enough… Don’t worry, I’ll have a talk with them. You’ll… be safe from now on.”
From anyone else, that level of condescension would’ve earned them a middle finger from Metchi at the very least, but she could barely move. She’d heard rumors about Mars. All terrible, most sounding like fanciful exaggerations, but here in her presence…
This woman was a killer. Of that, Metchi had zero doubts, and she had no intention of angering her.
More than necessary, at least.
“Sounds like a good New Years resolution; start doing your damn job-”
“Don’t push your luck.”
A single show of teeth and Metchi froze, face blanching. She said nothing else, and Mars gave her a horribly condescending smile and a pat on the shoulder as she passed her by.
“Next time, do a little more research before jumping in to be someone’s white knight, hm?”
“What?”
But Mars was gone. It was only Metchi now, and a few of the grunts who were too hungry to leave but smart enough to sit as far away from them as possible. She let go of the breath she’d been holding. Pushed the shame of being humiliated to the back of her mind, suffocated it in her sense of self-preservation and shook the matter off her thoughts.
“...Right. Where’s…”
Cassiopeia, thankfully, remained exactly in the same spot as before, standing sheepishly behind one of the room’s pillars, having seen the whole thing transpire. Metchi caught a glimpse of that bleached blonde hair from behind it, and smiled. She rounded it and opened her mouth to speak-
And found Cassiopeia glaring at her hard enough to bore a hole through her, tear trails running down their cheeks. All air immediately left her lungs.
“Wh-hey,” she whispered, momentarily forgetting the pain of being punched. “What’s-?”
“What the fuck was that for?”
“...What?”
“What!” Cassiopeia spat back like a mouthful of poison, ears blooming red with anger. “W-why did you do that!? I said-I tried to stop… W-what the fuck!?”
Stunned into silence, Metchi could only lift a hand as though to start gesturing toward a point, then let it fall again. Yet silence was clearly the wrong answer. Cassiopeia laughed derisively, shaking their head in disbelief, hands balled into fists.
“God, what am I… g-going to do now? Why did you do that?”
The almost pleading in Cassiopeia’s voice squeezed Metchi’s heart. She forced a smile and said, voice shakier than she liked: “H-hey, come on. I didn’t mention you or anything. That was the whole point! I’d been meaning to pick a fight with one of Mars’ grunts for a while anyway, I wasn’t lying about protecting the other Saturn kids. This was just-”
“I’m not in Saturn’s group, what the fuck are you talking about!?”
Metchi’s smile froze, dropping a second later. “W-what? You’re not?”
“No! I’m in Mars’!”
“What? Why would you…?” Metchi scoffed, shaking her head. “Why would they accept… Sorry, no offense but…”
It made no sense. Mars’ grunts were older and more experienced in combat for a reason; they were the ones who went out there and actually got their hands dirty. Cassiopeia couldn’t have looked the part any less.
And clearly they knew it, judging by the blush that crept up their face. The same seemed to assuage their fury somewhat.
“It’s… Gin told me to change teams. To be… with him.” It came as a whisper, eyes avoidant. “Ohh my god. Fuck . What am I gonna do if they find out…!”
Metchi’s head was a mess. She felt angry and confused and hurt on Cassiopeia’s behalf all at the same time, yet she felt like someone who’d tried to plug a hole on a sinking boat and ended up smashing a hand through the boards instead.
“I-I mean… Hey, I can arrange a switch back to our side, it’s okay. They’re not gonna find out, and even if they do-”
“ SHUT UP !”
Hands slammed against her chest, so suddenly that Metchi had no chance to brace herself and stumbled backwards, falling on her ass. Blinking rapidly, hurt and disoriented, she looked up at Cassiopeia.
“We just met! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Cassiopeia snarled, more tears dripping down their cheeks, teeth gnashed with anger. “I don’t want your help, I don’t want you to t-talk to me ever again, okay!?
“Wait, Cass-”
“ DON’T SAY MY NAME !” Cassiopeia slammed a fist against the nearby pillar, ignoring the pain, screaming at the top of their lungs. “Leave me alone!”
Metchi wasn’t dignified even with one last look of anger. Eyes closed, overflowing with furious tears, Cassiopeia turned around and stomped away from her, dashing toward the exit. There weren’t enough grunts left in the place to notice or care. And the same applied to Metchi, laying stunned on the ground, a hand over her chest rather than over any of the bruises across her body.
“...”
Only after a long few long moments of stewing in her own failure and hurt did Metchi place a palm against the ground, shakily pushing herself to her feet. She stared at the floor, blinking. Biting her lower lip.
Then she glanced toward the cafeteria entrance, where a ‘No Smoking’ sign was hung above the door. She chuckled. Procured one from her pocket, as well as her lighter.
“Already gonna disappoint you once today, Saturn,” she said to no one. “What’s just once more?”
The year ended and badly began with the first spark of that lighter, as far as Metchi was concerned.
Cassiopeia would not transfer to Saturn’s team, and Metchi would never see her again. Three months later, she would steal Azelf from the underground labs and spend the rest of the year running away from her former friends and comrades, some of which she would have to put down herself.
In the back of her mind, Metchi would come to wonder if she’d jinxed it that day, in that very moment, but the rest of her was too busy trying to survive to give the thought any real consideration.
It’s kind of funny, Metchi reasons, that she was less prone to flying off the handle and letting her emotions get the better of her when she was being hunted down by Team Galactic. She wonders if Inyssa might’ve rubbed off on her, but then discards the thought. First of all, rude. And second… She’s pretty sure the girl’s handling her shit better than her at this point, which… Ouch .
“...Aren’t you going to say something?” she whispers into the night. “The silent treatment isn't like you.”
Metchi’s sitting at a bus stop for a bus she’s got no intention of taking, the street utterly empty of people and vehicles. She sits there, the unlit cigarette hanging from her fingers. That’s the worst part; she’s already calmed down, if she’d only waited a minute she would have gotten her shit together, but now here she is, ready to break yet another promise to herself out of… what? Inertia? Anger at how stupid she is?
It doesn’t help that Azelf has gone silent. She stopped blocking it out almost as soon as she left the house, but its voice hasn’t returned. She must’ve really pissed it off this time. And to make matters worse…
“Ugh, come on.”
Metchi taps the tip of the cigarette over and over with her finger, but she can’t seem to summon any of the divine heat Azelf’s bond provides her with, and it’s been years since she’s foregone carrying a lighter around, thanks to the aforementioned heat powers. She sighs. Figures she might as well give it up since it’s not like there’ll be anything open right now where she could buy a-
“Metchi?”
“-!”
So out of it she was that Metchi can’t even jump to her feet, doing an awkward upward shuffle instead as her heart leaps to her throat. Lilith’s there, barely peeking out of the edge of the bus stop.
They stare at each other for a second. Metchi doesn’t realize she’s left the cigarette hanging from her fingers until Lilith’s eyes fall on it, and she asks with an uncharacteristically timid tone:
“Why were you… tapping the cigarette like that?”
“Huh? Oh-this. It’s…” She looks down at it, shakes her head and sighs. “Never mind. How did you find m-fuck.”
“It was-”
“It was Azelf,” Metchi cuts her off with a grimace of realization on her face. “...And here I thought you’d gotten your fragile ego hurt, I was preparing an apology and everything.”
She finally feels Azelf’s presence inside her, like a warmth she didn’t realize she was missing in this bitter cold.
“Please. You’re the one with the thinnest skin here. Which is humorous because-”
“Yeah, I get it. Thank you and shut up.”
“Hmph. Fine. I’ll leave you two idiots to it, then. Feel free to thank me later.”
“Fuck off.”
Lilith, only being able to hear half of that conversation, forms a thin, awkward smile and says. “Azelf talked with Flor, and Flor told me where to find you. I asked her why she wasn’t the one going,” she clarified with a hint of nervousness. “But she… insisted. So...”
“...So,” Metchi repeats, too exhausted with herself to be flustered. “...”
Lilith only waits for her for a few seconds longer. “Can I… sit next to you?”
“Yeah, sure. We can sit here like a pair of dumbasses and not catch a bus together.”
That must sound like a fair proposition, because Lilith is suddenly there next to her, and regrettably no amount of self-loathing can stay untested in the presence of a handsome woman like her, despite Metchi’s best efforts.
“...”
“...”
“Fuck,” is about the best Metchi can manage.
“Yeah,” Lilith nods with a sigh. “That’s about the short and long of it, huh?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Lilith asks, genuinely surprised. “I’m the one who dropped that bomb unannounced, I owe you an apology. I mean-alright, I wasn’t expecting you to react like that, but still.”
Eyes shut tight, Metchi chuckles and just about deflates, hiding her face in her hands and inhaling deeply.
“I made you miss the New Years toast, surely.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I don’t think that’s what you’re sorry about, Metchi. What’s going on?”
“...I thought maybe you were dead.”
Silence. Despite hiding her face precisely so she couldn’t see Lilith’s expression, a part of her can’t help but want to check. Especially when her reply takes so long to come.
“Yeah?” A short pause, then: “How come?”
Metchi could leave again, she knows. She could leave and not need to have this conversation, except she’s pretty sure Flor wouldn’t let that slide, and Lilith probably wouldn’t either. Besides, she’s got enough sense not to fuck up the same exact way twice in the same day.
“In Eterna forest, I…” It’s hard and it fucking sucks but somehow Metchi gets the words out. “A bunch of Mars’ people were on my tail. I had nowhere to go, I… I only had Azelf. So… you know. And I didn’t check their faces, I didn’t… want to know.”
She doesn’t approve of the noise her throat makes at the end there, sneaking into the last of her sentence like someone rudely cutting in line, but there’s little she can fucking do about that, isn’t there?
“Ah… Yes, that makes sense,” Lilith whispers. “I’d say I would hope you’d know I was on your side, even back then, but I know you probably weren’t…”
What, thinking straight? It hurts hearing that, and it hurts knowing that she had people rooting for her on the inside, people who could’ve helped lighten the load of the fate of the entire world on her shoulders… It’s something that might’ve made her angry before, but now it’s just disheartening. She doesn’t blame Lilith, but it doesn’t suck any less.
“Then later in Eterna city… I didn’t check who was there when I blasted my way in, I just wanted to stop Jupiter and Charon and then…”
She doesn’t like remembering, thinking about it. How Inyssa and Barry being nosy ended up saving her life and that of the world as an extension, but how it came at such a hefty price. Metchi’s grateful that Lilith gets what she’s getting at, because she’s not sure she could get the rest of the words out.
“...I heard, yeah. But I wasn’t assigned there. They were-”
A slip, Lilith catches herself in time, but it doesn’t matter. Metchi laughs into her palms, fingers curling inward, nails digging into her temple.
“They were mostly Saturn’s people, I know.”
My people is what Metchi doesn’t say. The youngest and most brainwashed out of all of them is what stabs into her brain like a red-hot iron, forcing her teeth to clench until it hurts.
But then she feels Lilith’s hand on her shoulder, a soft, almost fearful touch. She flinches, but doesn’t go as far as to reject the touch, like a drowning woman clinging to a piece of driftwood covered in splinters.
“If I were you, I’d probably be sick to death of people trying to console me about it…”
She is, though there’s no way she could ever admit it. All those words about self-defense, about how there was nothing she could’ve done, they’re not a salve for her guilt but further fuel to it instead. So, in all the times she’s talked about this, it’s the first she relaxes at the response she gets instead of tensing up further.
“...So I guess I’m just sorry. I mean-I knew. But even after that, even after what happened to Auriga…”
That makes Metchi flinch. It hurts all the more because she doesn’t hate Inyssa for it, and it’s like looking at a mirror in the worst possible way.
“...Even then, I was on your side.” Lilith breathes in and out, her hand on Metchi’s shoulder pushing slightly, her touch more present. “A lot happened after the Moonless Night, obviously. But I never stopped… I always wished I’d done something to help you, like you helped me back then.”
Slowly, Metchi lifts her face from her hands and turns to look at Lilith, confused. “I… what? I didn’t help you-you were…”
And Lilith’s smile in that moment disarms her completely, which leaves her victim to what she says next. “I never hated you, Metchi, not even after… that. I was just stupid, and young and angry. I’m sure you can relate.”
“...Yeah,” she says. “Yeah… You have no fucking idea.”
Why is she surprised about that? She doesn’t know, all she can do is let out another sigh like an old Poochyena and run the fingers of her hand through her hair, looking away.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “For making things weird. Probably not the start to the year you were expecting… ha. Man. Day one and I’m already fucking up.”
Lilith smiles, gives her a strong pat on the back. “Come on, it’s not even one hour into the new year yet. We’ve got time to turn it around, don’t we?”
“Y-yeah?” Metchi asks, some of the heat and buzz in her brain bleeding onto her cheeks and ears.
“Mhm. I might’ve started talking to you because of the past, but… well, look at us. It’s been a while. We’re practically and literally different people by now. I didn’t spend all night talking to you because I felt guilty, you can be sure about that.” She looks at Metchi, straight and unflinchingly, some of her previous confidence returning, and she drinks Metchi’s reaction like a fine wine. “Here’s the first thing you could do to get the year back on track… Mind if I take that cig off your hands?”
Metchi is very aware of the fact that the cigarette was in her mouth only minutes ago, yet that doesn’t stop her hand from obeying and handing it over. Nor Lilith from taking it between her lips.
“So,” she mutters, taking it off for a moment to talk. “You’re going to show me how you were planning to light it without a lighter?”
“O-oh. Um-I’m sure I could get you one somewh-”
“That’s not what I asked, Metchi.”
There are words, Metchi is confidently sure, that she could say in response to that. But with those amber eyes fixed so squarely on hers, with the scent of Lilith and her leather jacket so arrestingly present, doing to Metchi’s sinapses what boiling oil does to a bucket of fries, she’s not sure she’s got what it takes to force them out. All she can do is glance down at her chest, at the spot right beneath where her collar bones meet; there’s a small black tattoo there, a cigarette encased in a circle, reminiscent of the symbol on the lighter of an old car.
“...”
“Are you serious?” Azelf whispers into her mind. “You got that idiotic tattoo a year ago, don’t tell me you’ll waste your first opportunity to actually make use of it. ”
Azelf! She screams internally. Privacy! Please!
Going so red in the face she actually feels feverish, Metchi nevertheless reaches toward Lilith’s hand, gently grabbing her wrist and guiding it -and the tip of the cigarette- toward the tattoo on her chest. Neither of them breathe. The moment stretches eternally, silent save for the rush of blood in their ears.
Until there’s the sound of smoking and sizzling, the black ink of Metchi’s tattoo glowing red hot in contact with the cigarette. It’s less than a second. And when she lets go of Lilith’s hand and the woman pulls the cig back toward her mouth, there’s a thin line of smoke curling upwards into the night sky.
It takes until Metchi’s done staring at the way Lilith rolls the smoke inside her mouth before breathing it out to realize she hasn’t breathed in almost ten seconds. Funny, that.
“...Wow,” Lilith whispers, sounding out of breath. “That’s one hell of a party trick. I bet the ladies love it.”
“Haha… Actually, that’s the first time I’ve… um.”
Lilith’s eyes go wide. “Really? How long have you had the tattoo for?”
“...A year.”
She feels the woman’s eyes drilling into her, genuine curiosity and disbelief which only makes Metchi blush even harder.
“It’s just-been a while. Been busy with work. You know.”
“I see…” Lilith nods to herself appreciatively, the corners of her lips quirking up into a tiny smile. “I’ll be honest, that felt at least a few degrees more intimate than what I actually had in mind, ha… So, I guess I’ve got no excuse to be shy now. I was thinking… Do you have a place to stay for the night?”
Metchi’s whole body tenses as a shiver runs through her. “I… Flor was gonna fly us home with her Claydol. I would’ve come with my Tropius, but she’s getting too old for long trips.”
“Mhm. FLor looked pretty drunk back at the party, wouldn’t surprise me if Lely let her crash there for the night,” Lilith muses. “We can go back if you want. Or you could sleep at my place; I’ve got room.”
She holds the cigarette to the side as she leans closer, but the wind flies the scent of the smoke onto Metchi’s face, and that's not even remotely fair also.
“Yeah?” she asks.
“Mhm. Tell you what…” Palming her knee, she pushes herself to her feet and with a simple glance gets Metchi to do it too, lifted as though by puppet strings. “Consider it thanks for all the help you’ve given us. Let that be the official story.” And she takes another drag, eyes fixed on Metchi’s. “Unless you want me to be even more blunt?”
Unsure of what to do with her hands, Metchi grabs her right arm and laughs, unable to keep eye contact. “I’ll-no, it’s fine. I’m just…”
“Don’t think you deserve it?”
Metchi purses her lips, almost a smile. “I may not be used to things going well.”
“Heh. I get that,” says Lilith, taking another drag. “You’re a big girl now, though. I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it.”
In this moment, as a breeze blows by, carrying the scent of the sea to her nostrils and Lilith offers her free hand to her, Metchi remembers something her dad told her once. A saying, a lesson she was too young and stupid to listen to back then. He said that if you received a kindness you felt like you didn’t deserve, the right choice wasn’t to spurn it, but to grow your soul to a size that could accommodate such kindness.
Metchi smiles sheepishly then, taking Llith’s hand with burning cheeks and letting herself be pulled along for the first time since she can remember.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I guess I’ll just have to figure it out.”
- Alongside Barry and Inyssa (my version of Dawn) she shares MC status in a re-imagining of Pokemon Platinum, with all that entails.
- Back in CoT she was a runaway from Team Galactic who stole Azelf from them. Nowadays she's soul-bonded to it, and lives in Hoenn, working as a Ranger base leader.
That's all! Here's the story's synopsis:
Content Warnings:
Swearing, smoking, mild violence and some mild sexual innuendo through flirting.
Also for those who like that sorta thing, here's some art of Metchi from both time periods, when she was 26 and 32 (Younger Metchi art by strayknight on tumblr):
You Can Always be Found
31/12/2005
“And what the hell do you expect me to do about this, exactly?”
The last thing Metchi wanted anyone to think about her -much less the hand that fed her- was that she was unreliable, but she couldn’t help herself this time. She felt like a Spinda being pulled over and asked to do a balance test.
Her boss Saturn’s smile didn’t falter any, though. He pointedly ignored her cursing, knowing that scolding her for it was a losing battle, and plopped down beside her on the bed, leaning forward with elbows on his knees and that sweet yet annoyingly over-familiar look on his freckled face. It was the kind of disposition that tended to settle badly in Metchi’s stomach, but she’d learned to tolerate it for Saturn because she knew he truly didn’t mean anything by it.
Besides, she figured she had to lead by example. He might’ve been her boss, but Saturn was younger than her to a point where she couldn’t see him as anything but a kid, despite what his ID might say to the contrary. And yet he clearly had his life together more than she ever did at that age.
“I didn’t come here just to discuss this, I hope you know,” he said, a sincere look of shame on his face, like he’d just realized she might think that. “I’d heard down the grapevine that you weren’t going to attend our little celebration, but-”
Metchi groaned. “Why would I? So I can stand there awkwardly until enough time passes that I can go back to my room?”
The other issue momentarily vanishing from Saturn’s face, he tilted his head in a concerned but adorable way and said: “Ursa, everyone would love for you to be there.”
This time, at least, she managed to stop herself from flinching at the name. It was alright. She understood that code names were necessary for privacy, and it was Galactic’s way of metaphorically helping one’s rebirth into their cause. It was just that… the way Saturn had smiled back then, cheerily informing her that she could take a girl constellation name, as though that fixed the fact no one would call her by the one she’d chosen again…
No, she’d gone over this plenty already. It was a stupid topic anyway.
“Right, she muttered under her breath, raising one leg to the table and hugging her knee. “That’s why none of them invited me.”
“I-” Saturn stammered, genuinely confused. “They… They wouldn’t have thought it necessary. You know that.”
An uncomfortable feeling rose from Metchi’s stomach, the rushing of blood like a rattlesnake’s tail buzzing in her head. She looked away from Saturn.
“Do I?”
Metchi knew he didn't mean it badly, knew he was just showing so much friendliness because he was awkward and didn’t wanna come off as a bad person in the eyes of someone like her, but the moment Saturn gave her that ‘Oh, aren’t you silly?’ smile and put a hand on her shoulder, she wanted to punch him. And then he opened his mouth, and that almost became a reality.
“I know it’s difficult,” he whispered. “You’re not the first to feel this way. Holidays away from home a-”
“ Don’t ,” Metchi hissed, a sound like steam spouting from a kettle. “Just… Shut up.”
Saturn pulled his hand back like he’d touched said kettle, though he was quick in trying a different approach. “...Everyone on our side of team Galactic really admires you, Ursa. You’re an inspiration to many of them, especially the younger grunts.”
A bitter buckshot laugh left her lips. “That’s not even one percent as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Ah, but you agree then.”
Metchi cursed under her breath. “No-I…”
“Auriga wouldn’t be with us today if it weren’t for your guidance,” he kept going, surely trying to pile so much on top of her that she would be unable to refute him. “You’re the only one who speaks up during meetings; if not for you then the boss wouldn’t have known to add hormone vials and needles to the supplies he gets for us every month! That alone-”
“I-Look-That’s not…!” Metchi was trying to talk over him, but it was not easy. The man was a natural-born yapper. “Auriga was just depressed, okay!? And yeah, no fucking wonder. I didn’t do anything, I was just passing by and I saw her trying to… Point is, anyone willing to give a hug and a shoulder to cry on would’ve had the same result. And I wasn’t… Just because I spoke up during one fucking meeting… That doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t as good! Because they are!”
“I didn’t mean…” Saturn sighed, giving a little shake of the head. “What about Overheat ? We have a rock band in team Galactic now, Ursa!” he exclaimed, as though it were the most incredible thing in the world. “All because of you!”
Again that torrent of rushing blood inside her, only this time it was going to her ears instead of her brain, lips pursing in embarrassment.
“It’s grunge, not rock,” she said at first, because she could think of nothing else. “And… Okay, sure. But they would’ve gotten together and formed a band anyway, that’s what gay people do when they’ve got nothing else to do. I’m… just the bassist,” she said, shrugging. “There should be plenty of us in the base. I’m just the only one masochistic enough to volunteer myself.”
She was expecting Saturn to interject as soon as she stopped talking, but somehow the silence was worse. Because she could feel his eyes on her. It was a skill she’s developed out of necessity, one she really wished she could turn off once in a while.
“...I think you’re really underestimating yourself, Ursa.”
Making a face and shrugging was her response to that.
“Everyone-”
“Shut up,” she sighed, sounding so tired that Saturn obeyed out of concern more than anything else. “We’re getting off topic anyway. You wanted me to talk to the new recruit, right? Well, it’s either that or I go to the party, and I’ve only got the energy for one. I’ll let you pick.”
It was fair, right? A fair compromise considering she already did so much for this fucking guy. And as soon as she thought that, another voice inside her head whispered: ‘Wait, weren't you just arguing the point that-?’
But she cut the rails on that train of thought pretty quickly. The last bitch she needed a scolding from was the one inhabiting her skull.
“...Ursa, I wouldn’t want you to give up your-”
“I’ll go talk to him,” she quickly decided for him. “I do some good for the team, I don’t have to go to the party and no one has to suffer me there. Everyone wins.”
“Ursa…”
But she was already jumping off her shitty bed, opening the drawer on the table beside it and fishing a cigarette and a lighter from inside. As she turned around and clicked the spark to life, Saturn’s face almost tripped her into laughing. She figured he couldn’t quite scold her for smoking inside -or for carrying contraband- considering he needed a favor from her, so he simply scrunched up his round face and pretended he didn’t see anything.
“I said I’ll do it. What’s his problem?” she said before he could complain any more. “Depressed? Angry? Hormones?”
In a gesture she’d seen countless of times from white guys like Saturn -and which never failed to make her chuckle inwardly- he raised a hand as though to say something, shook his head and let it fall down with force onto his lap, sighing.
“He’s actually closer to your age than mine,” he said. “And… a mix of all three, perhaps. He’s been shirking his duties which… fair, you know I don’t expect perfection out of new recruits. This must all be avoidant, standoff-ish. There’s been other rumors, but they come from the lips of… Well, you know how Mars’ people are. And…” Saturn pursed his lips for a moment, as though carefully trying to pick his words. “I’m not sure, but Auriga told me you might be the one for the job.”
“Right…” Metchi blew out a mouthful of smoke, feeling much more cooperative now that the nicotine was entering her system. “That could mean plenty of things, but I’ll guess I’ll find out, huh? Still, couldn’t this have waited until after the party?”
Saturn gave her an apologetic smile. “He made it pretty clear he wouldn’t attend. I was hoping you’d… change his mind?”
The cig froze halfway to her mouth, and her lips curved into a sharp, ironic smile.
“...You fucker,” she said, more appreciative than angry. “Threatening to make me a hypocrite… you already knew I’d give you that choice, huh?”
Saturn gave her a little tilt of the lip and a glance upwards, like a slap to the face for underestimating him, young and naive though he may be.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said innocently.
“Right,” she said, taking a tired, suddenly much more needed drag. “I guess I deserve that.”
31/12/2011
In Metchi’s head, Lilycove is still that old salt-smelling city by the sea where only old rich people and their nepo families live, a mental image informed by when she’d come as a kid alongside her dad for one of his missions. Yet now…
Crazy what a couple decades and a recession can do. And becoming the new contest hub of the region. And opening branches for the two largest public universities in Hoenn. She’s rarely seen this many group of college students prowling the streets in search for somewhere to get fucked up since her last visit to Rustboro.
She casts her gaze to the side, to the woman accompanying her, hands in the pockets of her denim shorts, swaying back and forth on the ball of her feet. Not that they spend too much time together, but it’s strange to see her not carrying a thermos and a mate.
Flor turns to her with a knowing smile. “Ready to go? Or do you need a third smoke break to calm your nerves?”
Now, Metchi doesn’t take that kinda shit from just anyone, even if it’s just a joke, but unfortunately Arceus hasn’t yet come up with a type of butch that could hold her own against Flor’s smile, so she just smiles in turn and says: “Two in a day is pushing it already. If I keep slipping up like that, Azelf’s not gonna be happy with me.”
“Do you blame me?” Azelf speaks amusedly inside her head. “Our mutual bond is built upon your willpower and restraint.”
Actually, our mutual bond is built upon me being the only idiot who can stand you.
“Two things can be true at once.”
“It’s New Years though,” Flor says, then adds once her brain catches up to her mouth. “But if it’s for your health that’s totally understandable.”
And she chuckles at herself with a sound that tastes like lemon peels bubbling inside a glass of sparkling water; Metchi has no idea what that means, except that housing Azelf in her soul for so long has been giving her some strange synesthesia that only kicks up when around women she’s attracted to. Regardless, Metchi looks away with a croak that she hopes sounds like normal laughter. She’s found that it’s not advisable for her to stare at Flor’s prominent cheekbones and smile lines whenever she laughs; it’s like staring straight at the sun.
It goes like this: Flor asks her a favor, Metchi is unable to say no, things usually go wrong in some way or another. Not out of malice, of course. Her coworker truly wants nothing but the best for her, though sometimes… to a concerning degree.
This time, it started with the annual Ranger guild’s New Years party. All five base leaders got together with the other higher-ups in the organization and a few government officials to eat, drink and presumably celebrate. Though if there was any celebration to be had amidst all those people it was that Metchi somehow avoided pissing any of them off. It was close, though. The moment Flor -the south-western Ranger leader- saw her ready to pick a fight with Orozco -the north-eastern’s- she grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, enticing her with the promise of a fun New Years party and some much better booze. How could Metchi refuse?
Metchi catches one last glimpse of the woman’s smile before looking away again.
Flor is, in her humble opinion, the most attractive woman she’s ever seen, and though it’s not the first or second or even fifth time she’s had such thoughts, this time she might be onto something. She’s tall and fit but in a wiry ‘used to do gymnastics and now walks or bikes everywhere’ kind of way, with tanned olive skin and a head of curly hair the color of dulce de leche reaching down to her shoulder blades. Which, much like her collarbones and cheekbones and everything else about her, are so sharp and prominent Metchi feels them like red-hot knives on her synapses every time she looks at her. There’s something almost bird-like about the woman that drives her absolutely crazy.
Which might mean something if Metchi didn’t regard her so highly as a friend, highly enough that she’s not stupid enough to try and push for anything else.
It’s not just her boundless and painfully positive energy, nor the fact she’s practically her only ally amidst all the high-ranking members of the Ranger guild. It’s also that she’s just…
Too good for you? Asks a voice in her head, and Metchi’s halfway to opening her mouth and cursing Azelf before realizing it’s hers.
“...Right. For my health,” she finally says, clearing her throat. “So-uh… Pretty nice house your friend’s got, huh.”
Changing the subject seems to work, thankfully, and it’s not like she’s lying. This isn’t what Metchi would call a rich neighborhood, but the place across the street… Well, Metchi wouldn’t mind living there, that’s for sure. There’s the old fence, and then there’s a small lawn with a little concrete path in the middle; the garage to its left and a lifelike sculpture of what looks like a Zoroark made out of sheet metal and vehicle parts to its right. It’s almost intimidating. At least until Metchi notices the flier stuck to the door, advertising classes for art and sculpting and theater and a dozen other things.
“Right?” says Flor. “There’s more of those inside; Lely made them after she retired. Guess that artistic streak is one thing I got from her, hehe.”
Lely. Flor has mentioned her before; the woman who trained her when she was still just a green cap, and one of the guild’s earliest retirees. Not that Metchi can blame her. If she were married to someone who works at Mossdeep’s Institute of Science, she wouldn’t mind letting them be the breadwinner and having an early retirement herself.
“Liar,” Azelf whispers.
Shut the fuck up , she answers.
“And the energy for like a million hobbies,” Metchi tells Flor. “Though… you sure they’re okay with me dropping in all unannounced?”
“ Metchi . It’s not like my friends don’t know you.”
A bit of heat starts rising up Metchi’s neck to her cheeks. “Y-yeah, that’s kinda the problem,” she whispers. “I don’t want to, like…”
But that’s enough talking, it seems, because both of Flor’s hands come down on her shoulders, and the dark grey of her eyes clash against her, short-circuiting Metchi’s brain.
“Girl… It’s gonna be fine,” she says, so sweetly Metchi believes her kind of instantly. “I promise you, none of my friends give a shit that you’ve got a god-critter living inside your brain. Um-no offense-”
“None taken ,” Azelf speaks, this time outwardly, its weightless voice hanging in the air. “I care not for them either.”
“Good to know. Anyway, they just care that you’ve been making all of their jobs and so many kids’ lives much easier these past few months. They care that you’re cool. And that I say you’re cool,” she adds with a wink like a knife stabbing into Metchi’s adrenaline center. “So… try to enjoy yourself, yeah?”
“Y… yeah,” Metchi manages to get out, breathless. “Got it, cap’n.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says, turning around and grabbing Metchi by the wrist instead, which isn’t much better. “Come on.”
Worst part is, she’s right. They’re greeted inside the garage -which, lacking a car, has been turned into an art classroom- by a queer couple a decade older than them, yet who don’t seem to have any less energy than Metchi during her best days. She doesn’t know whether to find it hopeful or discouraging.
Flor truly is the spitting image of Lely, despite not being related and the former lacking a bit of the cheerful grimness that rests on the older woman’s shoulders like an intentional fashion statement. She gives Metchi a thigh hug and says she’s happy to finally meet her, before turning around so she can catch up with her student. Her partner is maybe less enthused but just as polite, offering Metchi a firm handshake and a smile that exacerbates the crow’s feet around their eyes like the pale veins running through brown apatite. They are, perhaps, the tallest person Metchi has ever met.
“Atticus,” they say with a voice like someone humming underwater. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Metchi.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” she says. “Atticus… That’s a really nice name.”
She’s not lying. And maybe it shows, because Atticus replies with a chuckle that’s very pleasant to hear.
“Thank you. It’s the only thing my mother left me.”
She can’t help but blink a couple times fast, but it’s not enough to throw her off. “Wish I could relate, but all mine left me was a dead bird. Ain’t life a bitch.”
“Ain’t it indeed,” Atticus nods, pulling their hand back. “Flor’s told me a lot about the work you do, but if you don’t mind there’s something else I wanted to ask you about. You’re free to refuse to answer, though.” They wait, and when Metchi just gulps and nods… “I’ve heard you came face to face with Father Revenant. Is that true?”
What a way to open a conversation , Metchi thinks before her head goes mostly blank. It’s not that she doesn’t know what they mean. Despite having never heard the term before, Metchi feels a zap of recognition coming from Azelf, and suddenly she knows. It’s hard to ignore the worry settling like an ulcer in her stomach.
“I… yeah,” she says, sounding less confident than she’d like. “It was… one hell of a weekend, ha.”
“Mhm. I’m sure,” Atticus mutters to themselves. “I’ve only met one of his daughters before, and she nearly killed me, deservedly so. Thankfully in the end she settled for destroying my car and forcing me to figure out my gender which is, I’m sure you’ll agree, a much better deal.”
Being now a public figure, Metchi would like to think she’s got some experience in navigating awkward conversations, but this just floors her. Staring and blinking is all she can do until Lely comes to the rescue.
“Atticus, that’s enough,” she says with a sigh, tuning into the conversation. “Give the poor girl some peace. We’re here to celebrate, not dig up the past.”
Rolling their eyes a little, Atticus gives their wife a knowing look as though she’s no one to talk, but eventually concedes and turns their attention toward Flor instead, giving her a big hug. Metchi doesn’t know what to say. There’s a weird energy about Atticus, a calmness and peace she’s not sure she understands, yet doesn’t dislike either.
“Let’s not keep you two here,” Lely says eventually, giving Metchi a little pat on the shoulder. “Food’s on its way, but we’ve got drinks and friends aplenty.”
“Is everyone here already?” asks Flor.
“Almost. Our grillmaster’s been here for a couple hours already. Both of my older students and most of the Horneros are here, save for Lilith who’s running a bit late.”
That last part catches Metchi’s attention. Horneros is the name of a non-profit she and Flor have been collaborating with ever since they became Ranger leaders, one which does its best to provide shelter and resources to young queer kids in need. Metchi provides as much employment as her base can reasonably -and often unreasonably, in the eyes of the government- afford, and Flor provides access to various clubs, activities and bureaucratic resources thanks to her seemingly endless pool of friends and acquaintances, Lely included.
Metchi has been in contact with a few of the older members in order to provide said help, but knowing she’s about to meet them in person makes her shoulders and her stomach tense up with nervousness. Especially…
“Aw, I really hope she makes it,” Flor sighs, then turns toward her. “Lilith’s been talking about how much she wanted to meet you.”
That, yeah. Lilith is practically the co-founder, and the person from Horneros Metchi has been in contact with the most. For business reasons, of course. Shame that even with that veneer, even through the safety blanket of online anonymity, it’s impossible to ignore that the woman is extremely cool.
And Metchi might meet her tonight.
“Mhm,” she mutters, her only response to what Flor said. “I’ll-uh, take you up on that offer for a drink. Hope you’ve got beer.”
They do, thankfully. And not just any beer but a few barrels of liso , a southern Hoennese variant that’s milder and softer than other ales, the type of beer you drink more to beat the heat than to get drunk, and the kind Metchi’s dad always used to down a couple glasses of after a hard day’s work. A habit she inherited from him.
Loud music and loud conversation fills the air as Metchi serves herself a glass and starts introducing herself to people, the scent of the curling smoke rising from the brick grill making her mouth water. There’s two reasons Metchi knows this asado will be one to remember. First is that the man tending the grill is fat and shirtless, grill shovel in one hand and a tall glass of fernet in the other, dancing and humming along to the music with a smile that could part storm clouds; the platonic ideal of a grillmaster. The second is that there’s no food that doesn’t go well with this kind of company.
The backyard is pretty spacious and covered all over with metallic Pokemon sculptures of all sizes, a few of which had to be moved to make room for the dining table. They make for good conversation pieces. Once she’s done hiding behind Flor and confident enough to break the ice with people on her own -all of whom are really happy to see her, embarrassingly enough- she uses the large Scyther sculpture near the entrance specifically because it’s cool and everyone has something to say about it.
A tall, lanky girl with more piercings than Metchi can count (Marianne, Metchi jots down in her brain) starts telling her about her team back when she was a trainer, and how the Scyther she rescued from a shelter gave her a false sense of security. How being able to steamroll the first three gyms ill-prepared her for the spike in difficulty. Metchi knows very little about training, but she nods and interjects when appropriate. A different girl with a mohawk and an old, graying Larvesta following her around (Primrose, what a beautiful name) interjects about bugs, and bug-catching, and pretty much everything regarding insects and their place in every aspect of the world with the excited tone of voice of someone who’s been obsessed since she was a kid.
Then the grillmaster (Angel, the third of his namesake Metchi has met so far) who it turns out is related to Mauville’s Gym leader Wattson, approaches with an anecdote about the time before the city’s renovation when the guys in charge of New Mauville’s power plant were considering harvesting Illumise and Volbeat for their bio-luminescent pheromones, as a cheaper alternative to chargestones for underground lighting. Which, in turn, sends Primrose into an indignant rant that lasts them nearly until dinner is ready.
Metchi’s almost forgotten about their missing member until they’re called to sit down, now that the asado’s ready. But then the doorbell goes off. And as she’s about to take her seat next to Flor, Metchi hears Lely and another person’s voices getting louder from inside the house.
“...was starting to get worried, but thank god…”
“...it was nasty, but what can you do,” a new person’s voice echoes, tired and deep. “We were about to leave when who else but one of the guys that worked there made a snide little fucking comment about whether Lottie’d gone into the wrong bathroom.”
“Really? Fuck,” Lely says, with the intonation of someone who rarely used that particular curse. “Is she-?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fer’s at her place with her, she’s fine. We almost got into a fight; ended up taking it up to the bar’s owner but I don’t think he really gave a shit, despite what he said.” A sigh, then a dry laugh. “So much for it being a safe space, hm?”
Then, out the door leading to the backyard, steps out a woman who Metchi instantly knows is Lilith, despite never having seen a picture of her. She’s stout and wide-shouldered, though not particularly tall. Her hair is so thick and messy it looks as though it’s exploding off the back of her head, barely tamed into a long charcoal-colored ponytail. She’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a wine-colored tank top, over which is draped possibly the most beautiful leather vest Metchi’s ever seen, a dark purple the color of poison with a sharp white fur collar. She doesn’t need to see the back to know there’s an Arbok’s false face on it.
Lilith stops, meets them all with a tired look and a lopsided smile, and says:
“Hey. Is there a chair for the dumbass who got us all banned from the Venoshock ?” There’s laughter and curses and fake indignant tones, and then Lilith’s eyes fall on Metchi and she all but feels her heart jump to her throat, because said eyes go wide with recognition and… excitement? “Metchi! I’m glad Flor managed to convince you to come. It’s so nice to see you.”
“I-Um-Yeah. Nice to-you too,” is what Metchi replies, because she is truly the biggest dumbass the land of Hoenn has ever produced.
31/12/2005
It wasn’t hard to find the grunt Saturn told Metchi about. Galactic HQ had a number of facilities intended for rest and recreation, probably at the behest of someone who understood that teenagers needed something to occupy their time with if they were going to be stuck in a building for a long time.
One of those places was the cafeteria, a long, mostly featureless room full of long tables and benches where grunts would sit together -often exclusively with those from their same division- and have lunch or dinner of tea time if they so wished. It wasn’t Metchi’s preferred dining spot. She liked eating in silence, and didn’t think many of her peers were dying for her presence anyway. But if she didn’t feel like dragging the food tray back to her room, she’d probably just…
Yep, right there, sitting at an otherwise empty table behind one of the pillars holding up the room, spoon buried in some risotto. Hidden and kind of stuck in between the area for Mars and Saturn’s people, both of whom were talking loudly as they ate, only occasionally flinging insults and taunts at the other group.
Ignoring them both, Metchi filled a bowl with chips from the counter and plopped herself down on the bench opposite to his, startling him into choking on his water.
“Hmph!”
“Hey,” said Metchi, grabbing a chip and biting into it. “Mind if I sit here?”
Hard to believe he was near her age with a baby face like that, honestly. The grunt was short and wiry, too skinny -but then again Metchi thought that of most teenagers- and with a black wool hat covering most of his bleached blonde hair. She grimaced at how dry his locks were, resting on his shoulders. If she couldn’t help him with what Saturn asked her about, she could at least give him some tips about how to better take care of dyed hair later.
“O-oh! No, it’s fine!” he said, voice going higher-pitched for a second. “It’s fine, hi.”
Antsy, huh. Metchi looked at him and smiled, resting her elbows on the table and grabbing another chip as though the two of them were already good friends.
“Name’s Metchi,” she said. “... And you should take a picture, it’ll last you longer.”
The grunt’s eyes didn’t leave her until then, when he cursed under his breath and looked away, apologizing. Metchi almost felt bad. But more often than not you had to let people know they were being rude and staring, regardless of the reason.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Haven’t seen you around before. What do I call you?”
Poor guy still looked like a Magikarp out of water, and Metchi would’ve felt bad for bothering him like this if she weren’t well aware that sometimes an annoying bitch like her was just what you needed to pull you out of a bad brain time.
“...My team name’s Cassiopeia.”
She barely stopped herself from raising an eyebrow. There was something in his voice, a twinge of an emotion that didn’t sound negative but didn’t sound pleasant either, when he told her his Galactic-given name.
“That’s a good one. Mine’s shit, so I just go by Metchi,” she shrugged. “Can I call you Cass?”
Cassiopeia’s face hardened instantly, as though someone had punched him in the gut. Metchi blinked. Then she mentally slapped herself because of course .
“...Cassiopeia it is,” she said.
“You can call me Cass if you want,” Cassiopeia hurried to add with a taut, forced smile. “Cassiopeia’s… I mean, a little girly.”
Those last words came out a little choked, so Metchi just smiled and said: “I think it fits you.”
“...Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Metchi nodded, taking another bite out of a chip. “From one dipshit eating alone to the other, it’s very nice to meet you, Cassiopeia.”
Unbeknownst to Metchi, it was precisely because this wasn’t out of left field for her that it ended up working. There were many rumors about her. Some good, some bad, but regardless of what other grunts thought about her, all of them knew her as the weird trans girl who spent most of her time alone, either snacking and staring at the ceiling or practicing with her bass… except when she saw someone younger than her in need. Then it was like a switch was flipped inside her. Many in Team Galactic had suffered her in this state; a rough hand grabbing them by the collar and beating them with an annoyed kindness until they at least had something better to occupy their time with than feeling sorry for themselves.
At the time, Metchi remained wholly unaware of this. In her mind she acted with perfect, crystal-clear consistency at all times.
So she and Cassiopeia got to talking over their shitty meals, and Metchi was surprised to find the grunt was much more friendly than she’d expected. Very talkative, sure, but that beat the alternative. They chatted about the usual stuff; the weather, the shitty spot the boss had chosen as their HQ, the whole trainer debacle outside their walls and the few T.V. shows the base’s limited cable could get to them.
And she found herself enjoying her chat a lot, regardless of responsibility. Cassiopeia was funny and cheerful, though in a ‘hyperactive and so-far undiagnosed with ADHD’ kind of way, caring more about talking than eating their food, which Metchi had to remind them of in more than one occasion, and one time even went to reheat it because it’d gone cold.
In the end, she almost forgot to bring up the topic of the party by the time Cassiopeia was finishing their plate.
“...Anyway, guess I better take another bag of chips with me, it’ll be hard to get food to my room later tonight.”
Cassiopeia looked up at her, a hint of almost recognition in those amber eyes.
“You’re not going to the party either?”
Cheek resting on her palm, Metchi smiled and shrugged. “Guess we’re fellow loners, hm? I dunno. I wasn’t feeling it before…” She left a little pause, then said. “How about you?”
Cassiopeia’s shoulders slumped. “...Yeah, I don’t know. I mean…”
Metchi caught the way Cassiopeia looked to the side, toward the table where most of Mars’ people were, face darkening all of a sudden.
“...It’ll just be awkward.”
“Oh, yeah?” Metchi asked, trying to sound casual. “How so?”
“Because my boyf… My ex is going to be there.”
Now, Metchi wasn’t actually expecting an answer that fast. She’d prepared herself for some more friendly wrangling, expecting a bit more effort to get it out of Cassiopeia, but it dawned on her that maybe not everyone had encased themselves in a fortress of their own creation inside their minds. Crazy that.
“...Ah.”
Regardless, Cassiopeia was definitely the oversharing type. Which soon informed the problem, as Metchi came to learn pretty much everything that had happened since their induction into team Galactic, and how much of it had been boyfriend troubles.
It was a sordid story Metchi had seen play many times before. A horribly lonely, conventionally attractive queer teen seeking validation and love in the arms of dipshits who only wanted them for their bodies. Of course Cassiopeia didn’t say any of that, but Metchi could read between the lines. The initial promises, the lovey-doviness, then the clinginess when the guy stopped caring about Cassiopeia, followed by rebound after rebound until their friends stopped trying to warn them about how shitty the guy was and left, figuring Cassiopeia was a lost cause anyway.
And from what Cassiopeia told her, it wasn’t the first time even within Team Galactic. Metchi would like to think she kept her temper under control during most of their talk, her anger boiling at a low, controllable simmer, but when Cassiopeia finally pointed out who her most recent ex was, she couldn’t stop the scoff from leaving her lips.
“Yeah… of fucking course it’s one of Mars’,” she said, glancing at the dipshit from afar for just a second before looking away. “And you think he’s worth ruining your New Years?”
Redness rose to Cassiopeia’s cheeks. Shame, anger.
“He… started making rumors about me. Says I’m clingy and creepy, that I was stalking him, but I just-”
“You just wanted him to stop avoiding you.”
“...”
Cassiopeia said nothing, and though Metchi should’ve probably slowed her roll at this point, the heat was starting to spread from her stomach outwards, coating her in a nice, self-sufficient mantle of anger.
“So if he weren’t at the party, or if he just left you alone, you’d go?” Metchi asked. “I didn’t feel like going before either, but I wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”
“R-really?” Cassiopeia asked, then immediately shook their head. “No, that’s… It’s fine, really. Maybe… I mean, I’ve been kind of clingy, he’s right about-”
Metchi stood up, startling Cassiopeia. She couldn’t help it; that restless energy was getting hard to control, and at this point she’d already made her choice. She shone Cassiopeia a tight smile, her best effort.
“Nope. Sorry, but I’m not letting you do that to yourself,” she said, danger clear in her voice. “Here, want to know what I think about your dipshit of an ex? Want to know what I’d do in your place?”
“Huh? Metch-h-hey! Metchi!?”
But she was already walking away, heading toward the table where Mars’ grunts were. “Watch from afar,” was all she said. “Wouldn’t want them to see you.”
Conversation immediately died on the side of the table she stopped at, all eyes turning toward her as she smiled and leaned down, slamming one hand next to the tray of the dipshit Cassiopeia had told her about. His eyes and posture were already aggressive before she did that, though. He was exactly the type she pictured when she heard the story; a pale, wiry pretty boy with long hair and a piercing, wearing a metal band T-shirt under his Galactic uniform. Plenty of young queer kids had fallen prey to such dipshits.
“Hey,” she said. “Gin, right?”
Every pair of eyes on her was fulminating. Though she wouldn’t have described any part of Galactic as hostile toward queer kids, Mars’ group was, statistically, the most likely one to contain such dipshits, considering most of them were older and… less morally-sound, to put it respectfully.
Funny thing about anger, though. As long as she wore it like a suit of armor around her, Metchi could get through as many nasty stares as she needed to.
“Yeah?” Gin frowned, seemingly too flabbergasted at her gall to react angrily yet. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just wanted to confirm, and give you a heads up. I really don’t like sucker-punching. Feels dishonorable, you know?”
“Wh-?”
Then, as casually as one could, Metchi emptied the guy’s tray atop the table, spun it in her hand and slapped it across his face with every ounce of strength she could muster.
31/12/2011
There’s the food and the drinks first, of course. Metchi limits herself with the latter, even if the former is a lost cause considering how fucking good the meat is. She’s not twenty anymore, however. Hard though it may be to accept, she simply can’t hold her liquor as well as she did a decade ago, especially while trying to get a girl like Lilith to like her. Metchi was a somber, weepy drunk. It just didn’t fit the occasion.
Yet things are far from over even as the plates have been emptied for a while. It’s rare for people in Hoenn to leave a gathering so soon after finishing their meal. Post-dinner coffee, sweets and chatting can last for hours, though in this case the former is just replaced with alcohol.
Thankfully, Flor stays by Metchi’s side as Lilith, arresting as a flashlight pointed to her face, takes a keen interest in her and seems no less enthused in chatting even after the full dinner and two spirited games of Carioca go by.
It’s an hour to midnight by the time a handful of the attenders go inside for coffee and a smoke break, and the three of them stand outside near the tree with the Joltik sculpture, drinks in hand to grease the wheels of conversation that keep on spinning. Metchi hasn’t looked at the time in a while. She completely loses herself, smiling and nodding along and exchanging stories and anecdotes with Lilith as though they’re good friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.
Lilith tells them about how she came to be a part of Horneros , and though it’s a story Metchi’s seen mirrored in plenty of the people she knows, it’s one she doesn’t get tired of hearing. Having recently moved to Hoenn all in her lonesome, Lilith caught wind of a meeting being organized by the group in a public park near where she lived, and having nothing better to do ended up attending without realizing that it was an event intended for younger queer kids to get to know each other. So in the end she found herself sitting in a big circle on the grass, listening to awkward teenage introductions and almost being bitten by one of the kids’ overprotective Trapinch.
“As soon as I heard the words ‘scavenger hunt’ I was like… no, yeah, fuck this. But I felt it’d be a dick move to just up and leave,” she confesses. “So I asked the organizer if there was anything else I could do to help. And that afternoon I spent organizing activities and serving fizzy drinks and offering those kids a shoulder to cry on… is what ended up sealing my fate.”
Both Metchi and Flor nod, empathetic looks on their faces. It’s a tale as old as time. You can have all the personality and good-will in the world, but it’s the people who are willing to do the boring work, those who speak up and offer ideas and plans of action that are truly vital to groups like theirs. It surprises them zero percent that Lilith would become so important to the Horneros in just a few years, without really meaning to.
It’s not much different than how either of them ended up where they are now, really.
“You know,” says Lilith after a short lull, raising her glass of Fernet with a quirk of the lips. “I’ve been talking about myself so much and I just realized I haven’t congratulated you two on your promotions yet. Can I make it up to you with a toast?”
Both Ranger leaders laugh and say it’s not a big deal, though Metchi stammers much more on that front. In the end however, all three glasses meet in between them with a clink.
“Aww, thank you, hon. I don’t know if I deserve it that much, though,” says Flor after her sip. “I don’t know if I told you, but it was kind of a toss-up.”
“Oh?” asks Lilith with a tilt of the head that moves a lock of hair over her face. “How so?”
“Well, it was either going to be me or my friend May… and she declined before they could even think about it. Said she was too inexperienced and she liked field work too much anyway. So y’know…”
Metchi makes a face at that. “Flor, you know they would’ve chosen you anyway, right? No offense to May, she’s a good kid, but she’s absolutely right. I mean… you were her teacher for a while even, right? It would’ve made no sense to pick her over you.”
“Haha, I mean, yeah. She still climbed the ranks a lot faster than me, though.” Flor presses her cold glass against the inside of her arm, thoughtful. “Youngest A-rank in the base’s history… that’ll turn some heads.”
“So? Rank’s just an indication of how much successful field work you do,” Metchi argues with the tone of someone who’s had this conversation plenty of times before. “Of course an ex Champion-level trainer would get to A in no time. But can she do paperwork? Could she survive a minute in a room full of government officials? No, of course not. Show me one Ranger who’s made it to A-rank that fast without the help of so many powerful Pokemon and maybe I’ll be as impressed with them as I am with you, Flor.”
It’s a bad habit of Metchi’s that her eyes kind of glaze over and her tongue loosens with a mix of alcohol and indignation, and so by the time she stops talking she finds herself face to face with a wide-eyed, blushing Flor, and freezes. It’s like she’s walked out into a blizzard fully naked.
“...You’re really sweet, you know that?” she says after a pause, the honesty in her voice making the hairs on the back of Metchi’s neck stand on end. “Isn’t she, Lilith?”
“I had her pegged as a charmer in my head, so it’s no surprise to me,” Lilith says. “Makes me just a bit jealous.”
It’s only Flor’s mercy then that saves Metchi from making a fool of herself trying to say anything to that brutal two-pronged assault, letting out just a short laugh before displacing a lock of hair behind her ear and saying:
“Ah, hell. I think I had too much to drink… I need to go to the bathroom.” She glances from one to the other. “Be back in a little bit. Look after Metchi for me, okay? Don’t let anyone steal her.”
“They’ll have to step over my corpse to get to her, ma’am,” says Lilith with complete nonchalance and seriousness.
Though maybe it’s not so much mercy as something else. As Metchi cranes her head to glance behind her, panic clear in her eyes, she and Flor’s eyes meet, and she can hear the exchange in her head as though spoken aloud.
What the fuck are you doing?
Taking off your training wheels, hon. Good luck.
“Look at that, Metchi: We scared a femme together. How deplorable” Lilith says, the sound of her name in her lips electrifying her. “I think that’s our cue to stop talking so much about work. What d’you say?”
“Huh? Y-yeah, probably.”
The smile that comes to Lilith’s lips then is sweet, if just a bit teasing. It strikes Metchi the same way a lightning bolt would a Gyarados.
“Join me by the porch?” she offers with a tilt of the head. “Maybe you can tell me a little about yourself.”
You dance with the one that brought you is a creed Metchi has always lived by. But when the one that brought you did so explicitly to hand you over to someone else like you’re a special blend of tea they’ve been waiting to try for a long time…
Metchi would love to be offended. But uh-she can’t, she really, really can’t right now.
“Sure. Only if you do the same, though.”
Lilith gives Metchi an odd look, holding the silence for a moment too long before replying. “Feels like I already gave you plenty, but I guess we’ll see.”
---
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” Metchi finally says during a short lull in the conversation. “Where the hell did you get an actual Arbok vest?”
Sitting alongside her on the house’s porch, the muffled music thumping behind them, Lilith licks her lips after a sip of her drink, her smile catching a piece of moonlight and reflecting it back to her.
“Asking for the lore on a girl’s leather vest on the first date? You’re a bold one.”
They’ve been talking for long enough now that Metchi meets that blow without staggering for once. “ And a matching set of boots. Those couldn’t have been cheap.”
It’s been on Metchi’s mind all night, not just because the vest is really cool but also because this close to Lilith, their knees almost touching, Metchi’s nose catches the leather’s natural scent and it has citric notes, both sharp and subtle at the same time. It’s her two favorite smells rolled into a beautiful piece of clothing, resting over Lilith’s shoulders.
It’s just not fair, is what Metchi’s getting at.
“...Would you believe me if I said I got it straight from the source?”
Metchi raises an eyebrow. “I’d have to hear the whole story first.”
“It’s actually much less interesting than you’d imagine, but since it’s you asking…” Lilith lets the sentence hang for a moment, then adds. “Not much to say. I was stupid enough to set up camp near where the Arbok’s den was, and it was mating season. The one that attacked me must’ve lost against another male, because he looked pretty roughed up… I was lucky. If he’d been in better shape, and if it weren’t for Flamberge-”
“Flamberge?”
“Oh, right. Flamberge’s my partner,” she says with a proud flash of her teeth. “He’s the grouchiest and most protective Dodrio you’ll ever meet. And he used to be such a sweetheart…” She sighs. “I wasn’t planning on evolving him, it just sorta happened, though I can’t complain since it ended up saving my life. The species doesn’t get a lot of love, which I don’t get. Sure, they can’t fly, but they’re as fast as any fully-evolved bird and have three times the heads to peck you with. And not to mention the talons. I’ve seen one of Flamberge’s kicks bend steel. So yeah… you can imagine how things went for that poor Arbok.”
“...Damn,” is all Metchi can say. “You get your girl stolen, someone breaks into your house and then their bird pecks you to death. Rough day.”
“Mhm… Flamberge gets pretty nasty when he thinks I’m in danger. I doubt he actually wanted to kill him… But hey, if I’m gonna go out like that I’d at least want them to make something cool out of my corpse,” Lilith argues. “And it wasn’t cheap, even having all the materials! The tannery fees were already painful enough; actually getting the vest done cost an arm and a leg. Though it was worth it, in the end.”
Hard not to agree with the proof in sight. Though there’s something about it that catches Metchi’s attention.
“...Wait. What were you doing camping near an Arbok’s den in the first place? They’re pretty hard to miss,” she says. “They eat a lot of smaller rodent Pokemon and they’re not particularly tidy; you should’ve seen some bones or corpses if you were that close.”
Something like a guilty smile comes to the woman’s lips, and she takes her time with her next sip before answering.
“It was the dead of night when I stopped to camp, and we were both really tired. Must’ve missed it,” she shrugs.
“Still-”
“I could lie to you and tell you it’s for a job… Actually, not much of a lie there. The Horneros is a non-profit, I have to earn a living some other way,” she muses. “But I do it more for fun than anything else.”
“...Do what?” asks Metchi, unconsciously leaning closer, curious.
“It’s kind of stupid, ha. Just a weird fantasy from when I was younger,” Lilith explains. “I’ve always liked the idea of just leaving through the interstate and losing myself in the countryside. My dad… we traveled a lot when I was younger. I always loved looking out the window and imagining what was out there in the forests or plains or abandoned buildings and winding dirt paths off the side of the highway.
“So, y’know. Once I was older, when I came to Hoenn to live and didn’t have to worry much about money…”
She tilts her head down and shrugs in what seems like a self-deprecating way, yet Metchi can’t look away.
“I was riding a bike in my fantasy, but I guess a Dodrio’s good enough. Faster, too, and he loves the outdoors just as much,” she continues. “So yeah, I take a couple months off from my Horneros duties every once in a while and go out there and camp wherever I can. I take my camera with me too. You know, to pretend I’m actually working; some of my pics even get submitted to magazines once in a blue moon. But in truth… it’s just for me.” A pause. A bitter smile. “I guess you could call it the trainer journey I never got to go on. Only with no Gyms or dreams of glory.”
Only the clink of the ice cubes inside Lilith’s glass can be heard once she’s done talking. Metchi doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. There’s something itching in the back of her brain, something about how easily Lilith talks about herself, yet it doesn’t feel like… oversharing. It’s something else.
“Flor would scold me if she heard me talking about this again,” Metchi eventually says. “But I feel like that’s what trainer journeys should be like anyway. Um-what a hobby, though. I’m jealous.”
“ Liar ,” Azelf snickers inside her head.
Can you like, fuck all the way off?
“So,” says Metchi, blinking to hide the brief golden gleam of her eyes. “What’s… the most interesting thing that’s happened during your trips so far? Besides your Dodrio going all Sephiroth on that poor snake, I mean.”
That earns her a laugh like a splash of water on her face. It also earns them a few more minutes of talking, of Lilith’s anecdotes which sound almost too far-fetched to be real, yet Metchi couldn't care less if they’re not.
But there’s something else, too. A sudden awkwardness. Lilith keeps glancing at her every once in a while, as though expecting something, willing it to happen, but it can’t be… No, they’re still talking. Even if she is interested in Metchi, it’s not… It’s something else, she’s sure.
And it’s not until she stumbles onto the right question that she finally realizes what.
“...You said something before,” she mutters to herself, brow furrowing. “That you didn’t need to worry much about money when you came to Hoenn.”
Surprise. Metchi knows the look of someone who’s been asked something they don’t want to answer, and the one on Lilith’s face is definitely not that. Her lips purse, but it looks more eager than avoidant.
“...Is it okay if I ask why?”
The smile Lilith gives her is definitely forced. It’s impossible to know what’s going on in her mind from her expression alone. “Why not? I already know I can trust you with my secrets.”
Metchi’s about to ask what she means by that, but Lilith cuts her off.
“I’m sure it’s a story you’re familiar with, but I didn’t keep the… best of companies when I was younger.” There’s effort in getting every word out, yet she looks more relieved the more she talks. Her eyes never leave Metchi’s. “The housing, the food, the chance to get back at those I was angry at… fuck, I didn’t even mind the uniform that much. But y’know… shit happens. You grow up, open your eyes…”
“Wait…”
It’s as if she’s walking through a dense fog, stepping over a freshly frozen lake. Cracks spreading beneath her feet. The moment when she first hears it, but mistakes it for the sound of a snapped twig instead.
“I was luckier than most,” Lilith says. “When things went to shit and everyone evacuated the base, I was at the right place and time to… take some stuff with me from the labs. Valuable stuff. Nothing dangerous, don’t worry. Blueprints, little doodads, a bit of precious metals… I have to guess the boss didn’t think it’d be worth anything, after he got what he wanted. It’s what paid the ticket back to Hoenn. It’s what’s been paying my rent for the past few years.”
Metchi opens her mouth, closes it, and when she opens it again her voice doesn’t sound like hers.
“Team Aq-? No, wait. That doesn't make…”
There’s a rumble inside her head, loud enough to even wake Azelf from its slumber, and it’s not just the cracks spreading anymore. Metchi feels a drop in her stomach. And, as though she knows exactly what’s going on inside her head, Lilith smiles in a sheepish way that’s nothing like her, and says guiltily:
“I… didn’t mean to be an ass. I didn’t even know if you’d remember and… I told myself it’d be a dick move to just come out and say it.” A sigh. She looks away. “So I’ve been stuck between figuring it’s better to just ignore it and trying to make you realize it all night. Sorry.”
She doesn’t catch the last part there, because the blood’s rushing to her ears again, rumbling, a static that deafens her to her quickening heartbeat. Her breathing grows heavier with the realization. The few neurons still working in her brain tell her she should’ve realized sooner, that it’s obvious in retrospect, that…
“Wh…”
But Metchi can’t concentrate on those thoughts, as the pleasant scent of the sea and Lilith’s jacket are replaced with copper and dampness and blood-stained earth clogging her senses and making her deathly nauseous.
“And I mean, it’s been years s-”
“Oh.”
“Hm?”
It’s clear she’s been lost in getting every word out, because when Lilith finally looks back at her and sees the paleness, the beads of sweat, the wide, gormless stare… her smile cracks like broken glass and she reaches a hand toward her.
Metchi’s on her feet before those fingers can touch her. Azelf stirs again, no longer curious but worried.
“Metchi?” Azelf asks tentatively.
“Metchi?” Lilith follows. “Are you okay?”
No , she tells Azelf, blunt like a hammer.
“Yeah,” she says out loud.
“Metchi, what’s happening? Is-AGH!?”
Over the years, Metchi has learned how to forcefully block Azelf from her mind, yet it’s obviously not a failsafe she thinks it’s okay to use, like placing a hand over a friend’s mouth to stop them from talking. But she does it almost unconsciously now, and Azelf’s voice is just gone. She immediately regrets the horrible, choking silence.
“...I’m sorry,” Lilith whispers. When did her voice become so small? She stands up slowly, worry and guilt equal on her face. “I guess I should’ve-H-hey? Metchi?”
Part of her wishes she could make her exit in a slightly more dignified manner. Say something. Explain herself, anything. But as she turns around and starts walking away, one hand over her mouth and the phantom scent of blood cloying her throat, she’s not sure she could manage any of that without throwing up on the spot.
There’s plenty of things Metchi has relapsed on during the past five years, each as mortifying as the other, each like seeing the boulder roll downhill and knowing there’s nothing to do but go all the way back down and start pushing again.
This one, though? It really fucking stings, once she’s far away enough that she can fish the third cigarette from her pocket.
31/12/2005
Let the word be on record; Metchi would have gladly gotten her ass beat by Gin’s whole posse if that’s what it took to get one good hit on him. Thankfully, the rules in Galactic HQ were simple. Only those who started a fight got to finish it, even if one had started it more than the other.
“A-ah! What the fuck is your problem!?”
Every single grunt in the cafeteria -and some called by their friends- formed a circle around Metchi and Gin as they limped in circles around each other, a good set of bruises already starting to bloom on the skin of their cheeks and arms and knuckles. There were cheers from all sides, some encouraging Metchi, others just clamoring for more entertainment, but she tuned them all out. Taking a step back, she shook her right hand as though there was a bug on it, trying to dissipate the pain and numbness of having punched wrong last time.
If dad could see me now, he’d be disappointed for sure , she thought bitterly. More than he already must be, I mean.
“What’s my problem?” Metchi asked casually, trying to keep her eyes from stinging with the pain in her lower jaw. “Nothing, I just figured some of you Mars fuckers needed to be taught a lesson. Oh don’t act stupid,” she said when Gin’s eyes started to widen. “We warned you before that if you kept bothering the younger Saturn kids then you’d pay with teeth .”
“What-Saturn!? What!? I haven’t-”
Gin looked genuinely flabbergasted, spitting out a lock of hair off his face with as much indignation as confusion. Unfortunately, that reaction left him wide open.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your dentist, dipshit.”
And she dashed forward; one quick hop followed by two fast steps, leaving her in range. Gin startled, tried to step back but Metchi’s left hand pounced like an Ekans, fingers closing like fangs on his shoulder as she leaned her other arm back, aiming straight for his-
“That is enough.”
“ AGH !”
Pain. What feels like sharp metal claws closed around the back of Metchi’s head, a palm heel kissing her nape, and it was like all strength was suddenly gone from her. Her breath hitched. She let go of Gin, swaying back and forth and-
“L-let fucking go!”
Turning with pure fear and desperation, Metchi threw the hand off of her and slapped it away for good measure, eyes wide like those of prey looking for an escape. And the ones that met her were indeed those of a predator.
The entire cafeteria fell silent. Metchi, feeling the heat of her anger doused as though with a bucket of water, stared fearfully at none other than Mars, one of team Galactic’s commanders. The woman stood casually, looking at the hand that was slapped away with interest. She flexed her long, thin fingers, and smiled.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Ursa,” she said with a kindness like a drop of cyanide in a cup of tea. “But I think that’s enough punishment for… whatever my grunt has done to displease you.”
“I didn’t do anyth-!”
Mars looked at Gin, lips pursed into the exact opposite of a smile, and the man immediately fell silent. It felt as though everyone in the base was holding their breath.
“I said that’s enough. Everyone, please disperse; the main show will be tonight, not here in the cafeteria.”
There was zero dawdling. Metchi stared half in amazement and half in fear as every single grunt around them dispersed, most of them abandoning the cafeteria all together, even if they hadn’t finished their meal. Only her last slivers of defiance kept Metchi in place, like a stone thrown into a spider-web hanging by a thread for the briefest moment. She saw Gin slowly walk away, glaring at her.
“...See you tonight at the party,” she said with a forced smile, remembering what she’d done all this for.
Finally, when only she and Mars were left in the small clearing in between empty tables, Metchi dared to take another breath.
“I… understand some of my grunts have been causing you and your friends trouble,” Mars said. “I thought it was nothing more than a friendly team rivalry, but if you lot think they’ve gone far enough… Don’t worry, I’ll have a talk with them. You’ll… be safe from now on.”
From anyone else, that level of condescension would’ve earned them a middle finger from Metchi at the very least, but she could barely move. She’d heard rumors about Mars. All terrible, most sounding like fanciful exaggerations, but here in her presence…
This woman was a killer. Of that, Metchi had zero doubts, and she had no intention of angering her.
More than necessary, at least.
“Sounds like a good New Years resolution; start doing your damn job-”
“Don’t push your luck.”
A single show of teeth and Metchi froze, face blanching. She said nothing else, and Mars gave her a horribly condescending smile and a pat on the shoulder as she passed her by.
“Next time, do a little more research before jumping in to be someone’s white knight, hm?”
“What?”
But Mars was gone. It was only Metchi now, and a few of the grunts who were too hungry to leave but smart enough to sit as far away from them as possible. She let go of the breath she’d been holding. Pushed the shame of being humiliated to the back of her mind, suffocated it in her sense of self-preservation and shook the matter off her thoughts.
“...Right. Where’s…”
Cassiopeia, thankfully, remained exactly in the same spot as before, standing sheepishly behind one of the room’s pillars, having seen the whole thing transpire. Metchi caught a glimpse of that bleached blonde hair from behind it, and smiled. She rounded it and opened her mouth to speak-
And found Cassiopeia glaring at her hard enough to bore a hole through her, tear trails running down their cheeks. All air immediately left her lungs.
“Wh-hey,” she whispered, momentarily forgetting the pain of being punched. “What’s-?”
“What the fuck was that for?”
“...What?”
“What!” Cassiopeia spat back like a mouthful of poison, ears blooming red with anger. “W-why did you do that!? I said-I tried to stop… W-what the fuck!?”
Stunned into silence, Metchi could only lift a hand as though to start gesturing toward a point, then let it fall again. Yet silence was clearly the wrong answer. Cassiopeia laughed derisively, shaking their head in disbelief, hands balled into fists.
“God, what am I… g-going to do now? Why did you do that?”
The almost pleading in Cassiopeia’s voice squeezed Metchi’s heart. She forced a smile and said, voice shakier than she liked: “H-hey, come on. I didn’t mention you or anything. That was the whole point! I’d been meaning to pick a fight with one of Mars’ grunts for a while anyway, I wasn’t lying about protecting the other Saturn kids. This was just-”
“I’m not in Saturn’s group, what the fuck are you talking about!?”
Metchi’s smile froze, dropping a second later. “W-what? You’re not?”
“No! I’m in Mars’!”
“What? Why would you…?” Metchi scoffed, shaking her head. “Why would they accept… Sorry, no offense but…”
It made no sense. Mars’ grunts were older and more experienced in combat for a reason; they were the ones who went out there and actually got their hands dirty. Cassiopeia couldn’t have looked the part any less.
And clearly they knew it, judging by the blush that crept up their face. The same seemed to assuage their fury somewhat.
“It’s… Gin told me to change teams. To be… with him.” It came as a whisper, eyes avoidant. “Ohh my god. Fuck . What am I gonna do if they find out…!”
Metchi’s head was a mess. She felt angry and confused and hurt on Cassiopeia’s behalf all at the same time, yet she felt like someone who’d tried to plug a hole on a sinking boat and ended up smashing a hand through the boards instead.
“I-I mean… Hey, I can arrange a switch back to our side, it’s okay. They’re not gonna find out, and even if they do-”
“ SHUT UP !”
Hands slammed against her chest, so suddenly that Metchi had no chance to brace herself and stumbled backwards, falling on her ass. Blinking rapidly, hurt and disoriented, she looked up at Cassiopeia.
“We just met! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Cassiopeia snarled, more tears dripping down their cheeks, teeth gnashed with anger. “I don’t want your help, I don’t want you to t-talk to me ever again, okay!?
“Wait, Cass-”
“ DON’T SAY MY NAME !” Cassiopeia slammed a fist against the nearby pillar, ignoring the pain, screaming at the top of their lungs. “Leave me alone!”
Metchi wasn’t dignified even with one last look of anger. Eyes closed, overflowing with furious tears, Cassiopeia turned around and stomped away from her, dashing toward the exit. There weren’t enough grunts left in the place to notice or care. And the same applied to Metchi, laying stunned on the ground, a hand over her chest rather than over any of the bruises across her body.
“...”
Only after a long few long moments of stewing in her own failure and hurt did Metchi place a palm against the ground, shakily pushing herself to her feet. She stared at the floor, blinking. Biting her lower lip.
Then she glanced toward the cafeteria entrance, where a ‘No Smoking’ sign was hung above the door. She chuckled. Procured one from her pocket, as well as her lighter.
“Already gonna disappoint you once today, Saturn,” she said to no one. “What’s just once more?”
The year ended and badly began with the first spark of that lighter, as far as Metchi was concerned.
Cassiopeia would not transfer to Saturn’s team, and Metchi would never see her again. Three months later, she would steal Azelf from the underground labs and spend the rest of the year running away from her former friends and comrades, some of which she would have to put down herself.
In the back of her mind, Metchi would come to wonder if she’d jinxed it that day, in that very moment, but the rest of her was too busy trying to survive to give the thought any real consideration.
01/01/2012
It’s kind of funny, Metchi reasons, that she was less prone to flying off the handle and letting her emotions get the better of her when she was being hunted down by Team Galactic. She wonders if Inyssa might’ve rubbed off on her, but then discards the thought. First of all, rude. And second… She’s pretty sure the girl’s handling her shit better than her at this point, which… Ouch .
“...Aren’t you going to say something?” she whispers into the night. “The silent treatment isn't like you.”
Metchi’s sitting at a bus stop for a bus she’s got no intention of taking, the street utterly empty of people and vehicles. She sits there, the unlit cigarette hanging from her fingers. That’s the worst part; she’s already calmed down, if she’d only waited a minute she would have gotten her shit together, but now here she is, ready to break yet another promise to herself out of… what? Inertia? Anger at how stupid she is?
It doesn’t help that Azelf has gone silent. She stopped blocking it out almost as soon as she left the house, but its voice hasn’t returned. She must’ve really pissed it off this time. And to make matters worse…
“Ugh, come on.”
Metchi taps the tip of the cigarette over and over with her finger, but she can’t seem to summon any of the divine heat Azelf’s bond provides her with, and it’s been years since she’s foregone carrying a lighter around, thanks to the aforementioned heat powers. She sighs. Figures she might as well give it up since it’s not like there’ll be anything open right now where she could buy a-
“Metchi?”
“-!”
So out of it she was that Metchi can’t even jump to her feet, doing an awkward upward shuffle instead as her heart leaps to her throat. Lilith’s there, barely peeking out of the edge of the bus stop.
They stare at each other for a second. Metchi doesn’t realize she’s left the cigarette hanging from her fingers until Lilith’s eyes fall on it, and she asks with an uncharacteristically timid tone:
“Why were you… tapping the cigarette like that?”
“Huh? Oh-this. It’s…” She looks down at it, shakes her head and sighs. “Never mind. How did you find m-fuck.”
“It was-”
“It was Azelf,” Metchi cuts her off with a grimace of realization on her face. “...And here I thought you’d gotten your fragile ego hurt, I was preparing an apology and everything.”
She finally feels Azelf’s presence inside her, like a warmth she didn’t realize she was missing in this bitter cold.
“Please. You’re the one with the thinnest skin here. Which is humorous because-”
“Yeah, I get it. Thank you and shut up.”
“Hmph. Fine. I’ll leave you two idiots to it, then. Feel free to thank me later.”
“Fuck off.”
Lilith, only being able to hear half of that conversation, forms a thin, awkward smile and says. “Azelf talked with Flor, and Flor told me where to find you. I asked her why she wasn’t the one going,” she clarified with a hint of nervousness. “But she… insisted. So...”
“...So,” Metchi repeats, too exhausted with herself to be flustered. “...”
Lilith only waits for her for a few seconds longer. “Can I… sit next to you?”
“Yeah, sure. We can sit here like a pair of dumbasses and not catch a bus together.”
That must sound like a fair proposition, because Lilith is suddenly there next to her, and regrettably no amount of self-loathing can stay untested in the presence of a handsome woman like her, despite Metchi’s best efforts.
“...”
“...”
“Fuck,” is about the best Metchi can manage.
“Yeah,” Lilith nods with a sigh. “That’s about the short and long of it, huh?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Lilith asks, genuinely surprised. “I’m the one who dropped that bomb unannounced, I owe you an apology. I mean-alright, I wasn’t expecting you to react like that, but still.”
Eyes shut tight, Metchi chuckles and just about deflates, hiding her face in her hands and inhaling deeply.
“I made you miss the New Years toast, surely.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I don’t think that’s what you’re sorry about, Metchi. What’s going on?”
“...I thought maybe you were dead.”
Silence. Despite hiding her face precisely so she couldn’t see Lilith’s expression, a part of her can’t help but want to check. Especially when her reply takes so long to come.
“Yeah?” A short pause, then: “How come?”
Metchi could leave again, she knows. She could leave and not need to have this conversation, except she’s pretty sure Flor wouldn’t let that slide, and Lilith probably wouldn’t either. Besides, she’s got enough sense not to fuck up the same exact way twice in the same day.
“In Eterna forest, I…” It’s hard and it fucking sucks but somehow Metchi gets the words out. “A bunch of Mars’ people were on my tail. I had nowhere to go, I… I only had Azelf. So… you know. And I didn’t check their faces, I didn’t… want to know.”
She doesn’t approve of the noise her throat makes at the end there, sneaking into the last of her sentence like someone rudely cutting in line, but there’s little she can fucking do about that, isn’t there?
“Ah… Yes, that makes sense,” Lilith whispers. “I’d say I would hope you’d know I was on your side, even back then, but I know you probably weren’t…”
What, thinking straight? It hurts hearing that, and it hurts knowing that she had people rooting for her on the inside, people who could’ve helped lighten the load of the fate of the entire world on her shoulders… It’s something that might’ve made her angry before, but now it’s just disheartening. She doesn’t blame Lilith, but it doesn’t suck any less.
“Then later in Eterna city… I didn’t check who was there when I blasted my way in, I just wanted to stop Jupiter and Charon and then…”
She doesn’t like remembering, thinking about it. How Inyssa and Barry being nosy ended up saving her life and that of the world as an extension, but how it came at such a hefty price. Metchi’s grateful that Lilith gets what she’s getting at, because she’s not sure she could get the rest of the words out.
“...I heard, yeah. But I wasn’t assigned there. They were-”
A slip, Lilith catches herself in time, but it doesn’t matter. Metchi laughs into her palms, fingers curling inward, nails digging into her temple.
“They were mostly Saturn’s people, I know.”
My people is what Metchi doesn’t say. The youngest and most brainwashed out of all of them is what stabs into her brain like a red-hot iron, forcing her teeth to clench until it hurts.
But then she feels Lilith’s hand on her shoulder, a soft, almost fearful touch. She flinches, but doesn’t go as far as to reject the touch, like a drowning woman clinging to a piece of driftwood covered in splinters.
“If I were you, I’d probably be sick to death of people trying to console me about it…”
She is, though there’s no way she could ever admit it. All those words about self-defense, about how there was nothing she could’ve done, they’re not a salve for her guilt but further fuel to it instead. So, in all the times she’s talked about this, it’s the first she relaxes at the response she gets instead of tensing up further.
“...So I guess I’m just sorry. I mean-I knew. But even after that, even after what happened to Auriga…”
That makes Metchi flinch. It hurts all the more because she doesn’t hate Inyssa for it, and it’s like looking at a mirror in the worst possible way.
“...Even then, I was on your side.” Lilith breathes in and out, her hand on Metchi’s shoulder pushing slightly, her touch more present. “A lot happened after the Moonless Night, obviously. But I never stopped… I always wished I’d done something to help you, like you helped me back then.”
Slowly, Metchi lifts her face from her hands and turns to look at Lilith, confused. “I… what? I didn’t help you-you were…”
And Lilith’s smile in that moment disarms her completely, which leaves her victim to what she says next. “I never hated you, Metchi, not even after… that. I was just stupid, and young and angry. I’m sure you can relate.”
“...Yeah,” she says. “Yeah… You have no fucking idea.”
Why is she surprised about that? She doesn’t know, all she can do is let out another sigh like an old Poochyena and run the fingers of her hand through her hair, looking away.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “For making things weird. Probably not the start to the year you were expecting… ha. Man. Day one and I’m already fucking up.”
Lilith smiles, gives her a strong pat on the back. “Come on, it’s not even one hour into the new year yet. We’ve got time to turn it around, don’t we?”
“Y-yeah?” Metchi asks, some of the heat and buzz in her brain bleeding onto her cheeks and ears.
“Mhm. I might’ve started talking to you because of the past, but… well, look at us. It’s been a while. We’re practically and literally different people by now. I didn’t spend all night talking to you because I felt guilty, you can be sure about that.” She looks at Metchi, straight and unflinchingly, some of her previous confidence returning, and she drinks Metchi’s reaction like a fine wine. “Here’s the first thing you could do to get the year back on track… Mind if I take that cig off your hands?”
Metchi is very aware of the fact that the cigarette was in her mouth only minutes ago, yet that doesn’t stop her hand from obeying and handing it over. Nor Lilith from taking it between her lips.
“So,” she mutters, taking it off for a moment to talk. “You’re going to show me how you were planning to light it without a lighter?”
“O-oh. Um-I’m sure I could get you one somewh-”
“That’s not what I asked, Metchi.”
There are words, Metchi is confidently sure, that she could say in response to that. But with those amber eyes fixed so squarely on hers, with the scent of Lilith and her leather jacket so arrestingly present, doing to Metchi’s sinapses what boiling oil does to a bucket of fries, she’s not sure she’s got what it takes to force them out. All she can do is glance down at her chest, at the spot right beneath where her collar bones meet; there’s a small black tattoo there, a cigarette encased in a circle, reminiscent of the symbol on the lighter of an old car.
“...”
“Are you serious?” Azelf whispers into her mind. “You got that idiotic tattoo a year ago, don’t tell me you’ll waste your first opportunity to actually make use of it. ”
Azelf! She screams internally. Privacy! Please!
Going so red in the face she actually feels feverish, Metchi nevertheless reaches toward Lilith’s hand, gently grabbing her wrist and guiding it -and the tip of the cigarette- toward the tattoo on her chest. Neither of them breathe. The moment stretches eternally, silent save for the rush of blood in their ears.
Until there’s the sound of smoking and sizzling, the black ink of Metchi’s tattoo glowing red hot in contact with the cigarette. It’s less than a second. And when she lets go of Lilith’s hand and the woman pulls the cig back toward her mouth, there’s a thin line of smoke curling upwards into the night sky.
It takes until Metchi’s done staring at the way Lilith rolls the smoke inside her mouth before breathing it out to realize she hasn’t breathed in almost ten seconds. Funny, that.
“...Wow,” Lilith whispers, sounding out of breath. “That’s one hell of a party trick. I bet the ladies love it.”
“Haha… Actually, that’s the first time I’ve… um.”
Lilith’s eyes go wide. “Really? How long have you had the tattoo for?”
“...A year.”
She feels the woman’s eyes drilling into her, genuine curiosity and disbelief which only makes Metchi blush even harder.
“It’s just-been a while. Been busy with work. You know.”
“I see…” Lilith nods to herself appreciatively, the corners of her lips quirking up into a tiny smile. “I’ll be honest, that felt at least a few degrees more intimate than what I actually had in mind, ha… So, I guess I’ve got no excuse to be shy now. I was thinking… Do you have a place to stay for the night?”
Metchi’s whole body tenses as a shiver runs through her. “I… Flor was gonna fly us home with her Claydol. I would’ve come with my Tropius, but she’s getting too old for long trips.”
“Mhm. FLor looked pretty drunk back at the party, wouldn’t surprise me if Lely let her crash there for the night,” Lilith muses. “We can go back if you want. Or you could sleep at my place; I’ve got room.”
She holds the cigarette to the side as she leans closer, but the wind flies the scent of the smoke onto Metchi’s face, and that's not even remotely fair also.
“Yeah?” she asks.
“Mhm. Tell you what…” Palming her knee, she pushes herself to her feet and with a simple glance gets Metchi to do it too, lifted as though by puppet strings. “Consider it thanks for all the help you’ve given us. Let that be the official story.” And she takes another drag, eyes fixed on Metchi’s. “Unless you want me to be even more blunt?”
Unsure of what to do with her hands, Metchi grabs her right arm and laughs, unable to keep eye contact. “I’ll-no, it’s fine. I’m just…”
“Don’t think you deserve it?”
Metchi purses her lips, almost a smile. “I may not be used to things going well.”
“Heh. I get that,” says Lilith, taking another drag. “You’re a big girl now, though. I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it.”
In this moment, as a breeze blows by, carrying the scent of the sea to her nostrils and Lilith offers her free hand to her, Metchi remembers something her dad told her once. A saying, a lesson she was too young and stupid to listen to back then. He said that if you received a kindness you felt like you didn’t deserve, the right choice wasn’t to spurn it, but to grow your soul to a size that could accommodate such kindness.
Metchi smiles sheepishly then, taking Llith’s hand with burning cheeks and letting herself be pulled along for the first time since she can remember.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I guess I’ll just have to figure it out.”